#foot injury be damned the sun is shining

[writhe]

i am having such a wonderful & lucky day & also i am limping everywhere

[faulty-writes]

heyyy do you think you can write more knight!iida x princess!reader please 🌺🌺

[ Hello dear anon! *Takes flowers* I can most certainly make more Knight!Tenya x Princess!Reader content. I hope you enjoy it, this was so much fun to write. Since I love Tenya this has a somewhat romantic end to it. The summary is below the banner. ]

[ Summary: The Kingdom of Yuuei has many wonders, but none was more fascinating to you than Tenya Iida, a young knight serving under the royal family. As the Princess, you were far too used to getting what you desired, this included demanding he teach you the ways of swordsmanship. Unfortunately, this training session results in an injured ankle, and he insists on caring for you. ]

You cried out when his sword collided with yours, and your feet desperately dug into the ground to steady yourself. However, this was of no use as Tenya continued to push you back intent on following your orders despite them clashing with his own morals.

As a knight, it was his duty to serve and protect the kingdom, its citizens, and its rulers. This, of course, included you. The fair princess. He had grown to know you well throughout these many years serving the kingdom, and as such, he understood your fierce and yet kind nature.

You were very caring and always did what was within your power to help your citizens. But they did not know of the determined and chaotic side that demanded outrageous and furthermore dangerous requests like him teaching you swordsmanship.

While he agreed that everyone should know the basics of self-defense, it was a knight’s job to ensure that the kingdom was always protected no matter what evil arose to challenge it. Obviously, he couldn’t refuse a command given to him by a member of the royal family.

However, he tried to convince you there was no need to learn how to defend yourself. This is because he vowed to never allow harm to come to you, or so he thought. Unfortunately, you weren’t convinced and refused to listen to his logic and reason.

Eventually, you threatened to throw him into the dungeon if you did not get your way. This would effectively end his knighthood and his goal of becoming Grand Commander as his eldest brother was. So, with some regret, training began.

Despite your swordsmanship skills improving over the past few weeks, Tenya refused to use his full strength against you. This, of course, bothered you given that during training sessions with his fellow knights, he was quick on his feet and defeated them with intense fury.

You wanted fair and equal treatment. Just because you were royal didn’t mean you couldn’t hold your own or at least try to. “Pardon?” he asked, lifting his helmet visor. You crossed your arms and impatiently tapped your foot against the ground.

“As Princess of the Yuuei Kingdom, I order you to use the extension of your strength against me,” you explained with an unhappy scowl. Tenya frowned knowing there was an increased chance of injury if he didn't hold back. However, he was not willing to lose his position nor was he in the mood for another one of your idle threats.

He removed his helmet and knelt down. One hand was pressed against his chest plate, while the other was pressed against the ground to steady himself. “Very well, Your Highness,” he replied, “I shant hold back,” and he was true to his word.

‘Damn it,’ you clenched your jaw. He was like a mountain, unable and unwilling to move. The sun shined down on both of you, causing sweat to drip down your forehead and neck. It also shined off Tenya’s armor which somehow looked new and polished.

However, he was known for taking care of his armor and often spent hours cleaning it. This was because of his insistence that “a knight must always look proper and in accordance with the royal family.” The fact that he was without a helmet was a distraction.

Even with dirt patches coloring his skin and sweat dripping down his face, he was handsome. His hair stuck to his skin, giving him an animalistic appearance. This was only intensified by his glistening red eyes, which were slit in anger and determination.

You briefly looked over your shoulder, noticing that you were inching closer to the end of the training ground marked with wooden poles connected with a sturdy rope. You refused to be thrown over that makeshift fence, despite knowing you were going to lose.

You tightened your grip on your sword and used all your strength to move Tenya’s sword to the side. The sound of metal scraping together echoed through the air and your arms trembled without the weight of the other sword to hold yours up.

The relief you felt only lasted for a few seconds before Tenya brought his arm back and clashed his sword against yours in a sideways swipe. You stumbled back, only to feel your foot get caught on something and pain shoot through your ankle when you hit the ground.

You didn’t see or hear where your sword landed. However, you heard Tenya drop his and immediately kneel by your side. “Princess!” he exclaimed in a panic, angry at himself for following through with your orders despite not having a choice. You groaned, slowly pushing yourself up.

“Are you injured?” he questioned, glancing at your body. Your once white dress was now stained with dirt and your hair was a tangled mess. The tiara that normally rested atop your head was now lying in a patch of grass, some ways from where you had fallen.

“My ankle...hurts” you hissed behind clenched teeth, trying to ignore the pain. “Pardon, but I would favor examining your ankle in order to assess the type of injury or damage that has occurred. This will determine which kind of medical attention you require.”

You glared at him but knew you didn't have the right to be angry because he followed through with your orders. Still, you hadn’t expected to get hurt, at least not like this. You frowned and hesitantly moved your hand away.

“I believe it would be best to remove your shoe, Your Highness,” he suggested. “May I have permission to do so?” he asked, and you frowned in response. Your fingers curled into the dirt beneath you and with a huff, you said, “Fine.” He nodded and grasped your ankle with one hand.

He ensured to keep his grip loose but firm as he took your shoe off with his opposite hand. You winced and pulled your leg back. Although it was a normal reaction to want to get away from the source of pain, he tightened his grip and finished removing your shoe. He then tossed it to the side.

You continued to wince, trembling as more pain coursed through your ankle causing your toes to curl. “Apologies,” he did not wish to cause you more harm but knew it was necessary. You growled in response but said nothing as he lowered your ankle onto his knee.

Each touch of his gloved fingertips brought a small jolt of agony, but you clenched your jaw to silence any further whimpers. “You appear to have some swelling and the skin around your ankle is red indicating possible future bruising,” he explained, making you pout. “Oh good,” you said sarcastically, making him knit his eyebrows.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, ecchymosis is not something one usually finds happiness in as it's bleeding that occurs under the skin due to trauma, and in some cases, can be a rather serious condition.” He was as sincere as ever and somehow it was annoying and endearing at the same time.

You looked at him monotonously. Your eyebrows were lowered, and your lips were pressed out in a thin line. “May I carry you to your bed chamber? I believe that would be the most appropriate place as you are in need of a change of clothes.” You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“After which, I will tend to your injured ankle,” he said before placing his hand on his chest and bowing his head. “Are you saying you want to undress me?” you asked, teasing him. But as usual, your jokes flew over his head or were completely ignored. “Please allow me this honor to redeem the injury I have caused to you.”

Despite the slightest flush washing over your cheeks, you were used to being treated like a flower. People were afraid to touch you in fear of your petals wilting, although this was typical for those lucky or unfortunate enough to be born into royalty.

While Tenya kept this in mind, he was not afraid to touch you or argue with you. This made him different from most of the Kingdom’s population and was one of the reasons you were drawn to him. You spread your arms out so that he can carry you as requested.

He carefully removed your ankle from his knee, laying it gently back on the ground. Then he placed one arm underneath your legs and leaned over. He allowed you to wrap your arms around his neck before placing his opposite arm behind your back.

His armor clinked when he stood up, but he didn’t appear to have trouble lifting you. The sound of his metal boots against the grass brought you comfort, and you stared at him the closer you got to the castle. Like before, you thought he looked handsome.

From his dark, undercut hair to his sharp jawline. “Hm…” you reached up and threaded your fingers through that hair. He tensed up but continued walking and glanced at you. “Please refrain, Your Highness,” he said, making you pout again. While he knew you wouldn't listen, public displays of affection were not permitted.

Especially given the difference in social status between you two. He could feel your glare burning a hole through him and assumed you were unhappy that he had refused your touch. “Knight Iida,” you said, trying to sound as sweet as possible which caught his attention yet again.

He stopped and after a few moments of hesitation, he replied “Yes, Your Highness?” You smiled and threaded your hands through his hair again. This made him frown but he remained still as you had yet to give him an order or tell him what you intended.

Your hand continued brushing through his hair, making him tremble in response. “Your Highness, I am about to resume walking,” he stated. Yet again showing his willingness to disregard certain rules or orders from you such as not moving until told to do so.

“Wait a minute,” you protested, but he ignored you. “Fine,” you replied, grasping the top of his chest plate to pull yourself up and kiss his cheek. Although it tasted of salt, sweat, and dirt. He stopped again, clenching his jaw to avoid shouting your name.

His face was flustered, and he looked at you with wide, yet still angry eyes. You snickered, finding his reaction amusing. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger as he knew acting solely on emotions was dangerous. “Please do not do that,” he stated.

His voice deepened and a serious tone accompanied it. “It’s not appropriate behavior for one of royal status to partake in nor is public affection proper social behavior for anyone to display,” he explained. “Why should I care about proper behavior?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just thanking my royal knight for everything he does for me,” you said, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “If the King and Queen witnessed their daughter treating one of the lower classes in such an affectionate manner, it would surely cause a problematic situation. I do not believe I would favor that.”

You frowned at his words, feeling both angered and ashamed, not of your actions, but rather of the belief that royals were above others. Everyone should be treated equally, regardless of their social status. You thought Tenya of all people would realize that.

“Mm…” You frowned but chose not to address it further. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder as he resumed walking. His eyes widened when he saw Tenya carrying you. “I-Iida!” he shouted, running up to him. “Greetings Midoriya,” he stated.

“I was worried when Your H-Highness ran off! The King and Q-Queen were too. Where was she!?” he frantically asked ignoring how you glared at him. Izuku was your valet and assisted you with whatever you needed. You knew he was of the lower class as well.

He had originally wanted to become part of the knighthood as Tenya was. However, he didn’t quite fit the requirements and was given the option of caring for you instead. Some may say that’s more challenging than being a knight.

“I’m afraid that is my own fault. I insisted that I overlook Your Highness’s self-defense training. However, the session ended early due to an injury,” he explained, and worry immediately enveloped Izuku’s features.

“Injury!?” he exclaimed, and you leaned forward, shushing him. “You have the biggest mouth!” you hissed, not wanting the whole damn kingdom to make a fuss just because you hurt your ankle. “Uh, u-um,” he flushed and bowed. “I-I’m sorry, Your Highness, I just um…” He glanced to the side, trying to stop his panicked thoughts.

“I-is there anything you need? I c-can get it for you while you continue to t-tend to the Princess!” he offered, leaning back up and looking at Tenya with determination. It almost saddened him that Izuku hadn’t been considered knight material.

He imagined that if given the chance, he would be a worthy knight. You growled softly, annoyed by Izuku’s words. He was an excellent example of one of the many people who treated you like a flower. He worried about every small scrape and bump you received.

“Thank you, Midoriya,” Tenya replied. “I would favor a wash basin, preferably with warm water if available,” Izuku nodded, continuing to listen. “I believe I will also require two washcloths,” he explained. “R-right!” the green-haired boy replied, you could never fathom why he was so shy around others.

“I’ll b-be back!” he promised and Tenya smiled as he watched him disappear down the hallway. “Can we go to my room now?” you asked flatly. “Yes, Your Highness,” he replied, and a rush of relief came when he opened the door to your bed chamber.

As expected, it was large and spacious. Natural light filled the room thanks to the large windows on the opposite side which were decorated with purple silky drapes. Outside said windows, one could see the beautiful courtyard and flower garden.

The walls were painted white with gold trim. A large white wardrobe with diamond-shaped handles and elegant carvings was next to your bed which was constructed of an equally as elegant bed frame with a large canopy. Much like the wardrobe, it too had carvings.

The only difference was that they resembled flowers, as absurd as that was. The bed itself was covered in silky white and purple sheets and blankets. A mountain of pillows was piled against the headboard, each specially crafted for maximum comfort and arranged in an array of colors.

He carefully sat you down on the edge of your bed and stepped back, the sound of his armor clanking echoed through your room. Once again, he pressed a hand against his chest and kneeled before you. Unlike the many others who bowed at your feet, your heart raced when he did.

Of course, that was understandable considering he was one of the more attractive individuals within your kingdom. “I am going to select another article of clothing for you,” he knew that was normally the job of your lady’s maid, Uraraka Ochako, who happened to be another one of his close friends.

She too was of the lower class and wore patched-up clothing when not working. He understood that she had originally been dismissed when she fell at the King and Queen’s feet and begged them for a job so she could support her parents.

It was only because of your persistence that you convinced them to make her your lady's maid. She helped you with dressing, make-up, and hair care. She also kept your room neat and tidy. Tenya assumed she was absent because, like Izuku, she was ordered to find your whereabouts.

In any case, you needed to remove your dirty clothing as it was improper for royalty to have such an unpleasant appearance. “Hmm?” You tilted your head. “But I-” You leaned up, making the mistake of moving your injured ankle, and hissed when another jolt of pain came.

Tenya noticed this and frowned. “I would advise against moving your injured ankle,” he stated, although, at this point, he believed it was sprained. He stood up and walked over to your wardrobe, glancing at the various dresses you had available.

He tapped his chin, deciding which one suited you perfectly, and walked back to you. “Here we are,” he said, laying the dress on the bed beside you. “I will turn my back. Inform me when you are done or if you require assistance,” he stated before turning around. You pouted, seeing your reflection in his armor.

Your hair still looked disheveled, and you could see the dirt patches that stained your dress. ‘Well guess I could look worse,’ you thought before shifting your glance to the back of Tenya’s head. You tapped your cheek, debating about teasing him and why shouldn’t you? He was the reason your ankle hurt.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t necessarily true. While he had shut down your advances before, he could not refuse you this time. “Knight Iida,” you said, your voice holding that familiar authoritative tone that caused him to turn his head slightly. “Yes, Your Highness,” he replied. “I need help,” you said.

“What do you require assistance with?” he asked, refusing to turn around for fear he might see your exposed body. “Take off this dress,” you replied and found amusement in the way he flinched. “P-pardon?” he replied. Yes, he said he would provide you with assistance but didn't expect you to order him to disrobe you.

“I order you as my knight to take this dress off me!” you said before tilting your head. “After all, my Lady’s Maid isn’t here to help me and I can’t do it on my own,” you lied. However, Tenya was gullible so maybe he'd believe you.

A lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to respond, as did the rush of warmth that flowed through his cheeks, turning them a soft red color. He hesitated when he turned to look at you. Perhaps he didn't think this through thoroughly.

Yet again the thought that he couldn’t deny a royal’s request came to mind. However, like before, he wished to try and talk some logical sense into you. “Are you most certain you cannot perform this task?” he asked. “Yes, I'm sure!” you replied in a huff, and much like before he could feel your glare burning through him.

“I do not recall you complaining of any pain in your hands and your arms are free of scrapes or cuts,” he crossed his arms and your glare intensified. “Take. My. Dress. Off. Now.” you snarled, and he sighed. Upon second thought, perhaps he would be wasting time if he intended to argue with you.

The sooner he helped you, the sooner he could address and care for your ankle. “Very well,” he said, stepping closer. “Please raise your arms above your head,” he instructed, and you smiled, doing as he requested which was quite unusual. Princesses don't tend to take orders, but you made a special exception in Tenya’s case.

He grasped your wrists and closed his eyes before slowly tracing his hands down your arms. You trembled when he caressed your sides and hip curve. Your breath caught when he reached your thighs as he moved his hands to caress the back of them.

You latched onto your lip when his hands moved down and stroked the back of your legs before finally grasping the bottom of your dress. In one swift motion, he pulled the garment off you and allowed it to drop to the floor.

You shivered when the cool air hit your exposed skin and wrapped your arms around yourself. “Your Highness, shall we put on your fresh dress now?” he questioned and before you could answer, your door opened, and in stepped Uraraka.

She smiled and carried a clean pile of clothes for you. Tenya snapped his eyes wide open, turning his head toward the door. “Hello, Your Highness, I brought you-” she stopped talking when she realized what was before her.

A man was alone with you, and you were sitting on your bed completely bare apart from your undergarments. But the man wasn’t just any man, it was Tenya. A knight who served the royal family and was one of her closest friends.

“U-uh,” she looked mortified, and her face turned red. What an embarrassing sight to see. “O-Ochako!” Tenya stuttered; his face red as hers. “I c-can assure you this is not what it appears to be and I-” he turned when he heard your bed creak and immediately covered his eyes when he realized you were attempting to stand up.

You winced as soon as you put weight on your injured ankle and reached out to grab Tenya to steady yourself on one foot. You then hopped behind him to hide your exposed body from Uraraka. Although she had seen you like this many times, Tenya's presence made it different.

She shook her head and stumbled forward, throwing the pile of clean clothes onto the nearest chair. “I-I’ll j-just put this h-here, s-sorry!” she squeaked before rushing out of your chambers. Her heart was beating so fast she felt faint as she leaned against your now-closed door.

“Hm?” Tsuyu, a maid, walked by and noticed Uraraka’s unusual expression. “Are you okay?” she asked, but Uraraka wasn’t sure if she could speak at the moment, and even if she could, it wasn’t her place to share personal information, much less intimate information about a royal’s life.

Your heart was still racing and your face, along with the rest of your body felt hot. But Tenya’s armor was cool, and you pressed yourself against him, slinking your arms under his to keep him where he stood. “Y-Your Highness, may I…may I ask what you are doing?” His shaky voice was unusual to hear.

But that didn't stop you from nuzzling your cheek against the back of his armor. You waited for your embarrassment to fade before uttering the words, “Thank you.” Tenya raised his eyebrow, uncertain of what you were thanking him for.

However, he appreciated such words. He cleared his throat. “Y-you are quite welcome…Your Highness,” he said, his words lingering in the air for a moment. “Perhaps…” You lifted your head, your eyes wide with curiosity.

“We should put on your fresh dress now?” he suggested, making you realize or rather remember that you were still in your undergarments and yet again your face heated up. “Oh um, r-right,” you replied, lowering your hands.

“Please take your seat and I will assist you as ordered,” he said, pointing a gloved finger toward your bed. You pouted before carefully hopping over and pulling yourself back onto it. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before facing you.

“Please hand me the dress.” Your lips curled but you did as he requested. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he stated, bowing respectfully before turning once more and opening his eyes. He made sure the dress was facing the right way and rolled it up to make it easier to slip over your head.

“Please raise your arms,” he instructed, turning to face you again. His eyes remained closed even as he slipped the dress over your head. He tried his best not to allow his knuckles to brush against your bare skin. “It is rather rude and inappropriate to look at a bare woman of your status,” you growled.

“My status?” you repeated, as he tugged the bottom of the dress over your legs and sighed in relief before opening his eyes. “Yes, of your status, Your Highness,” he replied, noticing the confused but angered look in your eye. “Royal, young, and unmarried,” he clarified.

“You could change that you know,” you shot back, and he stiffened in response. “I…I…p-pardon?” he questioned, and you snickered as his cheeks turned red. While marriage crossed his mind occasionally, you were untouchable and likely would be betrothed to another royal.

However, he was unwilling to entertain the idea of you being handed over to a stranger. Surely no one else could protect and care for you as he did. Regardless, his personal feelings should not interfere with royal dealings, nor his knighthood or so he would try not to allow them to.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak when a knock sounded. Like before, he snapped his head toward your door, thankful that you were clothed this time around. “Yes?” he said, and seconds later Izuku walked in.

“Uh, h-hello Your Highness…I-Iida,” he stated, being careful not to spill the water that filled the basin. “Sorry it took a while, I had to help O-Ochako fold the l-laundry and-uh…” he shook his head, guess the rest didn’t matter. “It is quite alright, please allow me,” Tenya replied taking the basin from him.

He could feel the warmth of it and the two requested washcloths hung off one side of it. Tenya placed the basin on the floor in front of you and turned to Izuku. “Thank you Midoriya,” he said. “Oh, i-it was no trouble, um…” He turned to you and pressed his hand against his chest, bowing.

“I…I hope you feel better, Y-Your Highness,” he stated. “You may leave,” you said, shooing him away with your hand. He lifted his head, looking at you before nodding. “Um, y-yes,” he said turning to walk out the door, leaving you alone with Tenya again.

He kneeled, removing his gloves before taking one of the washcloths and dipping it into the water. He twisted it to allow any excess water to drip back into the basin before standing again. “May I wash your face, Your Highness?” he asked.

“Hm?” Your eyes widened and you brushed your fingers against your cheek, feeling the rough texture of dried dirt. Oh yeah, you had almost forgotten about that. “Um…y-yes,” you replied, pressing your hand against your chest.

“Are you well Your Highness? There is little reason to be embarrassed about your appearance. You are rather alluring, pulchritudinous. No amount of dirt nor darkness can collapse such beauty.” Your bottom lip trembled at his words, and you leaned back, turning your head to hide your blush.

‘Why did he have to say it like that?!’ As a royal, you were used to compliments but none felt as personal as Tenya's. “Hm?” He blinked, noticing your odd response. “Forgive me, did I…perhaps Your Highness did not wish to hear such things?” Your eyes widened, and you snapped your head back.

“I apologize and if you wish so, I will refrain from-” he stumbled back when you shot your arms out and frantically screamed, “No!” Your eyes widened and you clamped your hands over your mouth. You weren’t sure if you were more embarrassed over your own actions or the fact that anyone walking by heard you.

Luckily you didn’t hear knocks or frantic footsteps, so you assumed you were safe. You looked away from Tenya and lowered your hands. “I-it…your words were fine just…unexpected,” you replied nervously. “And a-anyways, w-wash my face already!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms.

You knew you were like a spoiled child, but Tenya didn’t comment. “Very well, pardon my touch,” he said as he stood up and gently placed his hand underneath your chin. You closed your eyes as the washcloth touched your skin and collected the obscene dirt.

Tenya carefully cleaned your face in one swift motion, watching the once-white towel surface turn brown. “There you are. I do hope this helps your discomfort,” he said before kneeling again. “Please present your ankle. I wish to clean it and apply a warm compress to ease the pain,” you chuckled.

Tenya certainly had a way about him. You caught your breath when you lifted your injured ankle. That same shooting discomfort made you tense up. “Forgive me, I do not wish to cause you further pain. I will wash it in a quick and tidy manner,” he assured and laid the clean side of the washcloth on your ankle.

The warmth brought some comfort, but you winced as he moved said washcloth around. “There we are,” he said after a minute and looked at you. “Apologies for causing your displeasure,” he stated. “It’s…fine,” you said sighing, angry at yourself for allowing this to happen.

He folded the dirty washcloth and hung it on the side of the wash basin before standing up again. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “I would favor moving you toward the front of the bed as I believe it would increase your comfort if you laid against your pillows with your injured ankle elevated,” he explained, and you frowned.

Was he going to leave after this? “Mm…” you tapped your lips a few times as he removed your remaining shoe. You should properly thank him if that were the case. “Okay,” you replied and wrapped your arms around him when he leaned back up.

He nodded and carried you toward the headboard which was partially hidden by the mountain of pillows. He gently positioned you on the silky sheets and guided your head onto the said pillows. Then he grabbed a few spare ones.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure why you had so many pillows, to begin with, but assumed it was due to your status. One must ensure the Princess is happy as she is the ideal representative of the kingdom and sets the atmosphere for her citizens.

He carefully stacked the pillows next to your injured ankle and looked at you. “Please move your ankle slowly,” he said. “I will assist if you so desire,” he added, keeping a respectful and kind tone of voice. “I think I can do it,” you replied, clenching your jaw when you lifted your leg.

You pushed through the pain and slowly lowered your ankle onto the stack of pillows, sighing in relief. “Very good, allow me to prepare the washcloth,” he said, walking back to the foot of the bed. You leaned your head back and focused on the ceiling.

You could hear water swishing, followed by rapid droplets. “Here we are,” he said, approaching you again. “I will be gentle, Your Highness,” he promised before laying the second and more importantly, clean washcloth over your ankle. He then tucked it behind your heel making you wince.

“Apologies,” he said, standing up and bowing again. “But the warm compress should alleviate the pain temporarily. I will inform Ochako to provide you with a fresh one every hour,” he stated. “Are you leaving then?” you asked with a frown, reaching out to him, but he remained where he stood.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied, placing his hands firmly at his sides. “There are no further duties to perform here, and I must return to the training ground to retrieve your shoe and tiara. I will ensure both get properly cleaned and polished before returning to you,” your frown deepened.

The last thing you thought about was your shoe and tiara. They weren’t significant, or at least not to you. You opened your mouth to speak, but Tenya lowered himself onto one knee. “Huh?” you blinked, wondering what on Earth he was doing.

“I am afraid I must apologize for my actions. I am aware I was following orders. But an act of violence toward the Princess, even in training, is an act of war against the Kingdom. I wish to abide by my duties as a knight. I wish to serve and protect you above all else.”

Your eyes widened and you pressed your hand against your chest, feeling your heart's gentle thumps. “Um…” you glanced away, with the faintest blush dusting your cheeks. You looked back after taking a deep breath and leaned over, placing your hand on his head.

“Hm?” He blinked, startled by your touch. “I’m glad you followed my orders today, and…” you paused, retracting your hand. “Stand up,” Tenya raised his head. “Pardon?” he asked, making you sigh in response. “I said, stand up,” you repeated, motioning with your hand.

He looked reluctant but stood up and placed his hands by his sides again. You smiled and traced him from head to toe. He was a well-trained knight, and you were sore you wouldn’t see his training session today, but you could still leave a long-lasting impression on him.

“Come here,” you said, beckoning him closer with your finger. Once again, thanks to his gullible nature, he approached and leaned over. “Closer,” he glanced away, looking uncertain, but leaned down further to be face to face with you.

He gasped when your hand rested on his cheek and your fingertips caressed the ends of his hair. “Y-Your Highness, may I ask what you are-” his voice faded when you leaned closer causing his cheeks to turn red and his body to tremble when you laid your forehead against his, then you slowly leaned in.

“Let me thank my knight for all he’s done for me,” you muttered. Every rational thought in his head urged him to pull away, or else he’d break the unspoken rule between social classes and intimacy. But his mind and heart were on different wavelengths.

Despite his thoughts, his body remained still even as you tilted your head and pressed your warm lips against his trembling ones. His breath hitched as if he had just received a blunt hit to the stomach, and tingles ran through his body.

This was a sensation he had not yet known. It was different from the adrenaline rush he gets when in combat or clashing his sword against another. It was more intense, more needy, and yet in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but fathom the reason why this moment. This instance of lips against each other was wrong.

He panted desperately when you pulled away, and your cheeks matched his in color. “Y-you…” he could not form the words and found little comfort in your smile. He ducked his head and scurried to the door, remembering to grab his gloves.

“I…I must leave now,” he stuttered, trying to ignore your laughter. When he closed your door, he tried to focus on breathing. You…you were the only force in this world that caused him to react in this manner. Never had he faced a more challenging foe.

He swallowed thickly and pressed his fingers to his lips, still shocked that you had dared to kiss him. While he would long to experience a relationship, his personal goals would no doubt clash with any possible romantic endeavor.

He lifted his head, glancing at the ceiling with hope flowing through his chest. Although it seemed impossible for royalty and commoners to mix. Perhaps the two of you could blur the lines between human decency and love within the kingdom.

[achaotichuman]

My Faery Lord

Forgive me for my lateness, but here is Day 1 for Feylin Week!!! I am very excited to share this!!

Prompt- Art & Music.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut!

“Fuck!” Feyre clamped her mouth shut as her cheek skidded across the dirt. Scraping a thin layer of skin away, fire spread over her limbs and exploded in her ankle which had twisted from the root her foot had caught onto too. 

A groan escaped her throat as she tried to push herself up onto her elbows. Failing as she fell back down into the rocky ground underneath her with another pained moan. Eventually she got to a semi-sitting position, twisted around to see her ankle in a sickeningly unnatural position. 

Mother damn her and Cauldron boil her. 

Leaning over, trying to ignore the flames in her muscles, she cut her foot free of the root with the dagger strapped to her thigh. Checking her surroundings, she knew the manor was at least a half hour walk from here. 

Two options, she figured out, biting down on her tongue. Wait until Lucien figured out she had strayed from the group of sentries he and herself had been walking with, or crawl on her hands and feet towards the manor. 

The sound of Lucien’s snickering laughter combined with the image of him throwing her over his shoulder as he made way too many remarks about her human klutziness made the idea of crawling towards Rosehall and hoping Alis found her first much more appealing. 

So dagger back in its sheath, hands grazed and ankle on fire, Feyre pulled herself into the general direction of the manor’s grounds. 

Even though it aggravated her injuries, her stubbornness and the hope of saving her pride burned much hotter than the twisted ankle. 

But after fifteen minutes of crawling, Feyre and her damning human body gave out. 

She slumped onto the floor, panting. Rolling onto her back and wincing as a rock pushed against her spine, she stared up at the blue sky through the tree branches. 

How stupid. She had asked Lucien to see what the sentries did when they patrolled the area, and he had let her come. After two hours of conversation, Feyre had a rude awakening that patrol was far less exciting than what she originally thought and had snuck off. 

Of course, she had heard what in her head at the time sounded like a monster but was in hindsight more likely a deer or bird in the tree. Broke out into a sprint and hurt herself. 

With a resigned sigh, Feyre started thinking that perhaps waiting for Lucien to find her was a better idea. 

She laid there, eyes closed and breathing in and out, trying to manage the pain pulsing through her. 

A note struck through the air.

Her eyes shot open. 

Her body went taut. 

It was followed by a symphony. A string of notes that poured out one after the other. Turning to a river of music that flowed through the forest like waves of the ocean. Shocking through her body, filling some strange empty place deep in her soul. 

A strange, full body sensation that had her sitting up, barely of her own awareness. Her head turned towards the source of the sound. Somewhere deeper into the forest. 

Like something else was guiding her. Feyre moved towards it, the pain of her injury somehow lessened, as something more akin to bliss called to her from the source of the sudden song. 

Somehow managing to make it past the next few trees. She saw a lake. A lake so quiet and blue. Without a ripple, still as glass. The shine of the sun and sky reflected in it, a mirror image cast out. 

Across the lake. There was a ledge that hung over the water below. Eyes widened to take in more of the image before her. Her jaw must have been open but she didn’t take in much of herself in that second. 

His foot, covered with a black boot, swung over the edge of the cliff. Blond hair unbound with vines and flowers weaved in through the waves. Green threaded jacket tossed across from him, white shirt only covering the expanse of his chest. Tamlin held onto his fiddle, eyes closed and face blissed out as he wove a series of music that called to her very soul. Something buried deep under years of cold winters was suddenly brought up to the edge of her person. Sucking in greedily the picture of the Faery Lord. 

He did not see her, too lost in his own art to notice. For which Feyre was glad, because it meant he kept playing. 

It was artistry in making. She could see it before her, a river of colors like a rainbow, the river that had sung her name, it had blues and greens and yellows and pinks and purples and reds. Wild and untamed, the music flowed with no bounds

Underneath her fingertips, where they touched the damp soil, she could feel the paints, the colors, what she would use. How she would weave them across the blank canvas. It etched in her mind before her, each stroke and how she would bend them to her wants. How she would turn that blank white into all she wanted. 

She would turn it into what she saw before her. The Faery Lord. With the gold in his hair and the spark of green in his eyes. 

The spark of green in his eyes. 

He stopped playing and Feyre went rigid as she stared at him. Splotchy red spreading over her face. Tamlin blinked as he put the fiddle down, in a second, his form flashed in and out of reality and in a second he was right in front of her. Causing Feyre to yelp and suddenly thrash back, aggravating her injury. 

“You’re hurt.” Was all he said as he immediately spotted the twisted ankle. 

“Yeah, I… It got caught on a root.” Feyre explained, turning her eyes down to the ground. Refusing to look him in the eye. 

A soft displeased sound left his throat, and Feyre rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not broken,” she muttered, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Tamlin said, reaching out a finger he gingerly touched the fiery injury and Feyre hissed lightly. 

“I can heal this,” He murmured, voice so quiet Feyre swore he was saying it to himself. Though he then turned his eyes to her and asked, “Let me?”

She shrugged as she adjusted to stick her foot out before him, “Be my guest.”

He hummed as his head nodded. He sat down on the grass beside her and took her foot gently in his lap. The slight jostling of movement caused pain to spark but Feyre just managed to keep the pain to herself. 

Putting both hands on the injury, a warm fuzz began to flood her body, before it turned to a deep kind of heat, bordering on slight pain, but nothing she could not handle. It spread up her leg and blocked the sharp twist of fire as Tamlin pushed her foot back into position. She hissed only at the sight as it was unexpected. 

“Let that rest for a moment.” Tamlin said, moving his hands away to press into the grass and support him from behind. He did not, however, move her foot from her lap. A small smile curved on her face as she took that as permission to move her other foot into his lap. Tamlin looked over and raised an eyebrow, a grin curving on his mouth too. She just shrugged and he moved a hand to lay on her leg, rubbing slow circles into the muscles. Her eyes closed as her head tipped back. 

“You were playing.” She hummed. 

“I was.” Tamlin said. Feyre lazily opened an eye to see him staring out at the lake. She glanced over at it. 

“What were you playing?” 

‘It was beautiful.’ She wanted to say, but worried it made her look like a snoop. Despite that being exactly what she was. 

Tamlin took a while to respond. Feyre was about to ask again, thinking he had not heard her, but as she looked over she caught him looking at her. Green eyes with a strange softness to them, watching her face as she tilted her head to the side. 

“I wrote it.” He eventually said, “Just recently.”

She blinked, but smiled softly, “Am I the first to hear it?”

He opened his mouth, but had to bite down on his lip as a sudden smile exploded on him. He huffed a little, before saying, “Yes you are, quite fitting.”

“How so?” Feyre asked, eyebrows knitting together. 

Tamlin turned his gaze back over at her, a strip of red across his pale face. He looked through his eyelashes as he said, “Well it just so happens that song is about a human.”

Now Feyre was thoroughly confused. Scrunching her nose, furrowing her brow, “A human?”

“Yes, a human girl.” He hummed. 

Something immediately rivaled with the confusion at those words, something vastly more bitter, one that caused her gut to ache as she stared at him. Thoughts running rapidly through her mind at who he was talking about. What other human girls he knew. 

“Who?” She asked, the word leaving her throat barely of her own accord. 

“How many human girls do you think I know, Feyre?” He asked. 

“I have no idea.” She remarked, voice snapping, “I just know you know me and…”

She slumped back as all traces of… jealousy. Yes, that was jealousy she felt. All traces of jealousy disappeared and she stared at Tamlin with a new emotion. One that felt all entirely different from any other she had felt before. 

Something like awe, and joy and relief all at once. Like some more euphoric form of happiness. 

“The song is about me?” She whispered. 

He ducked his head, as he released her leg, “It is.”

Feyre let out a slight laugh and when he turned his gaze back up to her, scrutinizing her reaction, she quickly reacted. A hand going out, and grazing his shoulder. She froze in place, but still the smile did not break from her rosy mouth. 

“It was beautiful, Tamlin.” And she meant it, meant it with every single brushstroke of her soul. Though the words themselves were as customary as one could get on commentary to their works, the sheer joy and… love, she realized, this was love. The sheer love in her words echoed through to Tamlin and clearly struck him as his whole face turned completely red and he immediately looked away. 

Lucien found them not long after that. Bursting through the woods with sticks and leaves in his hair. Pure panic etched on his face as he shouted at Feyre for nearly sending him into a heart attack. Feyre rolled her eyes a great many times on the walk back home, so many times she became almost concerned they would get stuck in the back of her head and she’d never paint again. 

But as luck would have it, they did not and she did paint again. For the next two weeks she painted from dawn to dusk on one sole image. By the end of each day her bathwater came out gray from the colors scrubbed away from her skin, but each redraw of the water and grumble from Alis was worth it as Feyre stared at her creation in the sunlight. 

She saw him, and she saw the colors alive again. 

“It’s beautiful, Feyre,” a breathless voice beside her murmured. Feyre looked up at Tamlin who echoed her words from that day beside the lake. Eyes wide and mouth open, in an expression of awestruck like she was sure hers had been. 

She had thought over the title of the painting many times. Always coming back to what she had thought that day. The Faery Lord. In his lands and at peace in his home. 

But as she took his head and tipped her head onto his shoulder. The title came to her like the pollen floating on the breeze. 

My Faery Lord. 

@feylinweek

[deadpoetsocieteaparty]

Slinktober 2023—Brook

Author's Notes

I gave this some heavy thinking and while I did state that each piece of Slinktober would be a stand-alone piece per character, I maintain the right to connect stories together as I see fit. As it stands, I am linking the Strawhat pieces together as one whole story—told from eight different perspectives.

The bit that holds all eight pieces together is Brook. I present to you all, Day One of Slinktober.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laboon's Slinky Composition

It was a typical day out on the Grand Line, morning saw the bright sun with not a cloud in the sky to dull its shine but by noon everything had changed. First it was a cloud here and then a cloud there and then they were grouping together and the next thing everyone knew, the sun was gone, the sky fully obscured by angry looking clouds. And then, as if to add insult to injury, the clouds had the audacity to dispense over a foot of snow onto the deck of the ship.

Now, anyone who travelled the Grand Line knew to pack for the temperamental weather phenomena. Any ship’s crew worth their salt would know to pack clothes for all four of the seasons. This crew being no exception even though they complained, or in some cases shouted exuberantly, about the snow—they were all prepared. Well, all but one.

The ship’s musician stood out on deck as the rest of his crewmates threw snowballs at each other or built snowmen. He stood idly by a tangerine tree, no winter coat or boots, snow clinging to his afro and a worn, bent out and rusted child's toy held lovingly in his hands as he remembered a day long gone by...

52 Years Ago

The Rumbar Pirates were two months in to their repairs just inside the Grand Line, after having trekked through Reverse Mountain. Laboon happily swimming about the ship as the pirates played on their instruments and sang songs off the cuff. All but one.

Soul King Brook sat on the rail deep in thought. Laboon stopped swimming in front of him and splashed some water against the side of the ship, as if asking in whale speech for Brook to play him a song.

"Yohohohohoho! Laboon, one of these days we'll have to teach you how to play an instrument, then you can play for us. Yohohohoho!"

Laboon splashed his fins as Brook laughed, not really understanding what the pirate was saying but liking the cadence of the laugh all the same. Yorki, the captain of the ship, came up to Brook and slapped him on the back, "you know damn well we can't teach the little fellow an instrument, the little guy has no hands."

Everyone laughed. That was a fair and valid point, Laboon certainly appreciated all the music from the sorrowful power ballads to the drunken sailor shanties all the way to the lyric-less instrumentals of Brook's violin. Guitars, piano, drums, violin, vocals, you name it, Laboon loved it. Sometimes he'd join in with his whale song and sometimes he'd splash his fins or tail in time with their rhythms. He was a precious being, no one could ask for a better pet or friend.

But, he couldn't play a melody just for them. He couldn't compose his own music for his friends, he was permanently relegated to being the audience. Brook thought his captain's words over and an inkling of an idea was beginning to form. Nudging his captain, "hey, what if, Laboon could compose the music for us to play?"

"I don't see how, but I'm curious. How could he compose a song?"

It's a good thing a cloud passed in front of the sun as Brook smiled because Crocus' eyes were not prepared to handle the light that would have glinted from his teeth. "We teach him."

"And how do we do that?!"

Reaching into his pocket, the Soul King pulled out a slinky.

Yorki was starting to wonder what was in his whiskey bottle last night, he could have sworn Brook just whipped out a child's toy as if that answered Laboon's compositional dilemma. "Huh? How is that toy going to teach Laboon music? It's not a musical toy...is it?" Yep, he was definitely drunk off his gourd, there was no way he was perceiving any of this properly.

"Of course it's not a music instrument, that's not the point! Look, if you hold each end in a hand, horizontally and open your arms and close them it gives the illusion of playing a concertina. Madaisuki* can play his and I'll play the slinky."

Firstly, Yorki was feeling a lot better about last night's drinking habits. Secondly, he was convinced Brook had a genius plan. "Oh, I get it! We'll get Laboon accustomed to the motions of the slinky and can train him to swim certain patterns to move the slinky certain ways. Madaisuki can play according to your slinky playing and it'll be like playing an original composition from Laboon."

"Exactly! Yohohohohoho!"

The two friends high-fived each other and the crew cheered, they had a plan to include Laboon in the merrymaking. It took a good two and a half weeks to train Laboon on the slinky movements and the musical patterns, but before everyone knew it, he had learned how to communicate to Brook and Madaisuki how he wanted the slinky to move.

After a night of partying, Yorki and most of the crew joined Crocus in front of his house as Brook and the elder Mizuta twin grabbed their "instruments." Madaisuki with his concertina faced Brook while the latter, with a slinky, sat on the ship's rail so Laboon could see him more clearly and so he could see Laboon's instruction. He sat facing Madaisuki as well, so that he could copy the slinky's movements as the twin pirate was the one actually playing the composition.

Laboon would compose and Brook merely acted as the conductor's baton which the older Mizuta then followed as he was the musician. It was a brilliant scheme and tonight was Laboon's compositional debut which is why Yorki ordered all the rest of the men off the ship. They would be the captivated audience.

Laboon began swimming in patterns of his choosing, free from training and learning what the patterns meant. He knew. He knew which parts of the slinky produced the prettiest sounds and which ones flowed perfectly into the next phrasing. He knew how fast or slow to make the tempo to get his friends dancing. Brook tapped his foot on the side of the ship to keep himself and his slinky in time with Laboon's aquatic patterns, and Mizuta Madaisuki played his concertina while swaying his body to and fro in rhythm with Brook's tapping.

Laboon had composed a spicy little dance number that soon had his audience dancing on the shore. The crew loved it so much, they demanded the poor little whale give them not one but two more encores of it. The first song ever composed entirely by Island Whale. Crocus tried to christen the piece but Yorki wouldn't have it, "this is Laboon's composition, he has to name it."

"How on earth is he going to do that?! You going to have the Afro King over there teach him speech?"

"Yohohohohoho!"

Yorki smirked, "nah, we'll just ask him of course."

Of course. How could Crocus miss that obvious answer. Yorki nodded to his musical duo on the ship, and Brook just held up the slinky, "Not it!"

Madaisuki chuckled, "fine I'll ask him. Hey Laboon! Whatcha wanna call your piece? It had the rhythm of a rumba but we can't just call it Rumba. So, what should we call it?"

Laboon splashed fervently at the crew on the shore. Yorki smiled proudly, "The Rumbar Rumba. I love it." He bowed to Laboon, "I am honored that you named your debut composition for us. Thank you my friend."

The entire crew, Brook and Madaisuki, even Crocus, all bowed to the little Island Whale. "Thank you for your generosity!"

Laboon slapped his tail on the water's surface in celebration.

52 Years Later

Luffy ran around the deck of the Thousand Sunny, trying to hide from an onslaught of snowballs all aimed directly for him. Seems the crew got it into their heads to band together and target him first before taking each other out. Even Zoro and Sanji put aside their arguing to pelt their hyperactive captain. Seems no one enjoyed his earlier attack of "gum-gum snowball bazooka."

He dashed into the tangerine trees, Nami would absolutely murder anyone who harmed those trees, so he should be safe until they figured out how to flush him out of there. He ran straight into Brook and knocked the skeleton down.

"Shishishi, sorry Brook! Hey, what's that thing in your hands?"

"Yohoho, this is an old memory. My previous captain liked to make children smile, and this was one of the ways we could do that. It's called a slinky."

"A slinky? What's a slinky? Can I eat it?"

"Yohohohohoho!" Brook's teeth chattered as he laughed, he couldn't control himself. Luffy's appetite knew no bounds. Pity he couldn't eat his way to the One Piece. Brook kept laughing for a few more minutes, buying himself time to sell the lie. He didn't want to lie to his captain and technically he wasn't, a slinky is indeed a children's toy, but this slinky was Laboon's instrument—his means of conducting Brook to play a melody only Laboon could otherwise hear. He didn't want to relive those memories again, they made him both happy and sad. As the Straw Hats musician, it was his job to set the mood and he didn't want to bring down their joy right now. So, he'd tell a little white lie and just pass it off as a different memory of his old crew.

"No Luffy, you can't eat it. It's made out of thin metal that's coiled up, like a spring. It bounces and stretches, kind of like you. Sometimes if you bounce it just right it makes a noise. It's just something to play with that makes kids smile." Brook's smile fell away as he got a little more serious, losing himself to memories. His slinky couldn't make that funny little noise anymore, it couldn't stretch like Luffy, and it lost its bounce. It was no longer shiny, the luster being lost to rust and the coils all bent and twisted in on itself that in the center it looked like tangled up string.

Luffy looked at it for a few seconds and then grew bored. "Huh if you say so. You should come play snowballs with us. Hey! I know. If you help me throw snowballs at the others, I'll let you have some of my meat!"

Brook looked at Luffy, did he just offer to share his meat? "Yohohoho! Deal!"

Soul King Brook tucked his dilapidated slinky lovingly in a pocket and joined his captain and crew in a snowball fight. He hung back and pelted the crew with high arching snowballs from the tangerine grove as Luffy wove his way on deck picking off his friends one by one. Brook threw his snowballs in rapid succession, to his crew mates he was creating a white flurry that they couldn't see through making it easy for Luffy to take them out with snowballs or as was most often the case, a tackle to the ground. For Brook, the snowballs were thrown in rhythm to the melody he quietly hummed to himself, Laboon's Rumbar Rumba.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Mizuta Madaisuki is canonically known as being a musician but he is never shown in the manga or anime as playing an instrument of any kind, so it is unknown what his actual musical talent is. For purposes of this piece, I made him a concertina player.

I also apologize if no one sounds or acts like they actually would. All I really know about Brook is his laugh and that's he's a skeleton musician of the Straw Hat Crew. Haven't encountered him outside of fan fiction and even then he's usually a side character. I had the fandom wiki pulled up the entire time and I tried to keep the story accurate to Brook's history and character.

This is probably the angstiest of the Straw Hat fics this month. The overall story will continue tomorrow with Luffy. See you then!

[gobblewanker]

The Mystery and The Isosceles

Ch 13: A Face Without a Body

Also on AO3

Out on the horizon, the sun had just peeked its head over the purple sea spilling reds and yellows like fire onto the morning clouds. The warm light ignited the gold plating decorating the sides of The Isosceles’ hull and illuminated the faces of the crew gathered nervously on deck. The men—and others, if nothing else at least their captain wasn’t prejudiced—huddled close seated on barrels and chairs and the worn decking itself as they murmured conspiratorially in the early morning light. Many among their ranks sported nasty injuries to tell of last night's struggle, but at least they were alive. Others were not as fortunate, but the dead had already been thrown overboard: Sentiment had no place on Cipher’s ship.

Despite the warmth, the mood was cold and serious. Even many of the crewmates who’d been senselessly drunk the night before had dragged themselves out to join the impromptu debate.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the door to the captain's cabin opened and the first and second mate stepped out only to pause at the sight of the congregation.

Pyronica marched up to them with her head held high and her expression dour, the clicking of heels following her. Kryptos followed a distance behind.

“What are you all doing?” She demanded. The crew looked at each other dubiously, nobody immediately rising to answer. ‘Teeth’—The ship’s loosely designated physician, named so by Bill for his former job as a barely qualified barber surgeon—was elbowed by the person next to him and hopped down from the barrel he’d been seated on to face Pyronica. She towered over him with his short stature.

“Look- we, uh- We've been talking and some here—not naming names—were kind of… Suggesting we maybe cut our losses and ditch?”

“ Excuse me? ” Pyronica demanded shrilly, her pinkish face becoming flushed with outrage.

“Look- I’m not saying I agree but-” Teeth was quick to defend himself, but another crewman rose to the challenge.

“We all know the Captain can be a bit of a loose cannon. We signed up for that.” Hectorgon grumbled. Pyronica wished she could bite his head off. “But getting himself and a quarter of us killed just because he decided he wanted some dusty old trinket? He’s slipping.”

“He’s going to get us all killed.” Someone else voiced agreement.

“We’ve got a good thing going here, why bring him back to mess it up?”

Pyronica snapped back at them, taking another step forwards angrily with her hand on her gun. “Who do you think got us to this point you useless disloyal-!”

“Look, you dumb broad, why do we keep saving him when he’d leave any one of us for dead?”

“Just because you think he’s some kind of knight in shining armour doesn’t mean-”

“I’m your first mate, I call the shots here!” She fired the pistol once into the deck right next to the foot of the last person to speak. “If I hear another damn word of mutiny your guts will be next week’s rations!”

“Alright!” Kryptos stepped forwards, gratingly false smile on his face as he passed Pyronica. “Let’s all look at this rationally. It would be very convenient to desert while Bill can’t retribute, wouldn’t it? Split the gold, head back to port and go our separate ways, enjoy your lives; toodles and all that.”

Pyronica grumbled, but took a step back regardless. She couldn’t stand the smug diplomacy as Kryptos continued like the upper class twat he was.

“But do you idiots really think we’re his first crew? He’s been alive for centuries. Do you really think he’s never had to start over on his own? He’ll find some poor schmuck to trick and possess with or without us, and when he does, well… The captain is not a merciful man.”

A collective shudder went through the crew at the unflinching mention of that word. Possession . They all knew, of course. But it was something more pleasant not to think about. Really, calling the captain a man was inaccurate. The word tasted wrong in conjunction with his name. All of them were acutely aware.

The man they looked at wasn't their captain.

It wasn't the man they bowed to and cowered from. It wasn't the man who's word they obeyed with fearful precision.

The man wasn't their captain.

The thing wearing his skin was.

Kryptos continued. “I’d suggest that next time you feel the itch to leave, you remember he’s more likely than not listening.”

“We’re heading to the usual port, get to it.” Pyronica said, before turning abruptly and walking back towards the inside of the ship as the crew reluctantly got to work. 

Most ports weren’t worth the risk to stop in, but there were always the few that had realised just how lucrative their presence could be. It was a simple exchange, really. Don't speak carelessly to outsiders, wait on Bill and his men like a royal procession, and in return, ill-gotten gold will flow through the streets like water. They needed a few safe ports, places to restock and recuperate. Besides, the itinerant  nature of the people living in major ports meant nobody would question a few disappearances when Bill’s vessel broke and a new one was needed.

“You get too worked up on his behalf.” Kryptos’ longer strides caught up beside her.

“You don’t do it nearly enough.” She snapped back.

The rest of the crew were a bunch of ingrates, Bill was the reason they could live freely and do whatever they wanted. He was the only reason plenty of them were even alive, he was the reason she was alive.

She’d been on ships her entire life, leaving Europe with her father as a little girl after her mother was burned on accusations of witchcraft. She was never a good girl, violent and vicious, and happy to bully the other powder monkeys as she watched her father and the gun crew work. Some people didn’t mind, but the only person to have ever turned around and praised it was Bill. He was the first person she ever met who saw cruelty and admired it. Who rescued her, and took her away to a place where she could be as savage as she wanted.

She’d been imprisoned the first time she saw him. Already sentenced and slated to hang for using the ships cannons to fire on the mansion of a governor. She’d been locked in a damp cell when the door had been kicked in by a gaunt man in garish golden clothes, weapon drawn and face irritated. He’d come to retrieve his ship’s master gunner who’d apparently been locked up after a drunken brawl, but was clearly angry at the inconvenience. When he began speaking to her on a whim and learned of what she’d done, he laughed and offered to take her instead.

She didn’t trust him. He was a stranger. A man. One with unclear intentions who’d appeared from nowhere, and offered to take her away. She had enough street smarts to know not to go anywhere with him, but the alternative was the gallows. She accused him of indecency, and he just shrugged.

“Decency is overrated, but don't flatter yourself darling.” He told her with a lazy grin as he leaned on the bars. “All humans look disgusting to me.”

At the time she never questioned the way he phrased it; like humanity was a group to which he didn’t belong. But she relented and took his offer. His smile widened, and he made short work of the cell door lock. 

Her name was Veronica. He dismissed it, and said he’d give her a better one. 

He did.

“Yes, well.” Kryptos’ voice brought her back to the present. “We can’t sail anywhere if you shoot all our crew.”

“If the mutinous idiots want to talk a big game they should be prepared to deal with the consequences.” Pyronica snapped back. “You owe him too.”

In a way, he supposed that was true.

His head had never been on the line the way hers was. As the youngest son of a noble family, his life had always been comfortably miserable before meeting Bill. He’d had practically no autonomy to speak of over his own life, overbearing family members and rigid social structures dictated everything. The rest of the crew still saw him as a spoiled nobleman. He’d never starved and begged and slaved the way they might’ve. But that didn’t mean life was easy.

His whole life he’d been told exactly what to do, how to stand and speak, how to dress and act, and how to carry himself at all times. Even when he usually wanted to do the exact opposite. It was like living in a very ornate cage with eyes that never slept plastered on every wall. Social affairs, parties and balls were insufferable; those sorts of things were meant to be for entertainment. Why then, did he have to spend them all stiflingly dressed and smiling politely at people he’d rather shoot? He felt like a spring wound tighter and tighter until he felt he’d break in two.

Everything came to a boil when his parents decided to have him marry for the sake of their politics. He meekly accepted, like a puppet dancing to its strings. He’d been doing that since before he learnt to walk.

Bill had crashed the party. He didn’t know why or how, maybe he was scouting it out, maybe he was planning to attack, maybe he just wanted free food. But they’d spoken.

Maybe Bill saw something in him.

Maybe he just knew an easy mark.

Kryptos still remembered the question clearly. Still recalled Bill looking out at the dolled-up nobility that felt so sickeningly fake behind the plaster and paint. Bill looked at him, and spoke.

“What’s money and power with this many strings attached? Don’t you want to taste real freedom?”

Bill gave him a vial and asked him to poison the wine.

He never looked back.

Bill watched his two seconds in command from the mindscape as they separately returned to their quarters. Incorporeally, he observed the crew working out on deck now that they’d finally decided to stop with the whining and do their jobs. It was so much easier to get people to do what he wanted when they were in stabbing range.

It was a while since Bill had been able to actually use any of the powers that came with being an interdimensional creature. Obviously, humans couldn’t reshape the laws of physics, but when he possessed a vessel even the purely mental ones were cut off. Precognition and clairvoyance couldn’t be filtered through a human brain without frying it. While being cut off from physical sensations was insufferable, Bill could at least take the opportunity to check up on things. He’d already scoured nearby islands and found a man who resembled his last vessel closely enough, going to get him would be his crew's problem, and there wasn’t much more Bill could do after relaying it to Kryptos and Pyronica.

Instead, he turned his once again all-seeing eye to those hated twins on their ship. He watched the brothers arguing over something or another, but noted with some satisfaction that Stan’s wounds seemed to be slowing him down. His face was ashen, and he swayed on his feet. Hopefully it’d get infected and the stubborn old idiot would keel over. He was shouting something at Ford, and-

Ford .

Bill couldn’t express how much he hated that man.

Not only had Ford betrayed and tricked him thirty years ago, but he’d not even had the common courtesy to die like he was supposed to afterwards. Bill should have killed him himself. Or better yet, make him his next vessel. He’d fitted the archetype close enough; male, brown hair, light skin, young adult… Cut out the eye and get rid of the inconvenient finger and nobody would have noticed the difference, just like they hadn’t ever before. 

When people were distracted by the scars, the teeth, the solid gold false-eye and loud clothes they never noticed it was the wrong face wearing them.

But no, Ford had to go and get too ill to be of any use.

Bill took some solace in the memory of the last night he’d had Ford on his ship. If the old man’s reaction to seeing Bill when they’d fought was any indication, he still remembered vividly too. 

Ford had laid on the floor, his breathing ragged and his appearance unkempt. Bill had towered over him, watching with satisfaction as Ford flinched when he stepped closer. His eyes were squeezed shut but opened frightfully as Bill touched his face. Bill had taken his jaw in a gloved hand and pulled his chin up to face him as he spoke softly.

"I'll let you die. But I get to do whatever I want with you for the short remainder of your worthless life."

In truth, making any kind of formal deal with a dying man wasn’t much use. But it was fun .

Bill wanted to see Ford suffer. Ford had promised him Cascada—he’d promised him salvation —and then gone back on it. He deserved every bit of pain and humiliation Bill could inflict. Making him take one final deal if he wanted it to stop was just a bonus. It wasn’t as if Ford could have fought back even if he’d tried to, but making him agree to his own torture meant Bill had one more thing to hold over him. It meant that no matter what he did, it was Ford’s own choice . It meant that Ford was letting Bill hurt him. It meant that Ford wanted it.

Not really, obviously. Bill wasn’t stupid, he recognized a deal under duress when he saw one. But the accusations were one more weapon.

He had a hunch of how Ford might have been saved, and a quick look inside the man’s mind confirmed it.

If it was one being Bill hated more than Ford, it was a centuries dead shaman, and if there was a being he hated even more than that, it was The Axolotl.

As far as Bill knew, The Axolotl didn’t have much reach into the material world. Not because he wasn’t able to, but more because he preferred a hands-off approach to the whole deity thing. Bill had a sneaking suspicion the overgrown tadpole was responsible for the seagulls that always seemed to increase in number whenever Bill got a new body as some sort of godly guilt-tripping. Other than that, he only knew of one direct result of his interference.

Jheselbraum the oracle.

The woman was more of a frontier physician really, but that was what she was referred to as. Bill had his human posse, and The Axolotl had his. Bill had only ever interacted with her once, and he’d rather not remember that pathetic moment of weakness.

After the shaman betrayed him and destroyed Bill’s gateway to the world alongside Port Cascada, Bill tried to distract himself from his isolation in the mindscape by taking and discarding human hosts at random. For a bit, it had worked. 

He didn’t remember whom his first vessel was, it had been so long ago and the original identity was irrelevant. But what he remembered was how absolutely vibrant the world was when he experienced it for the first time.

It was intense. Just the sensation of breathing was overwhelming. The sound of a heartbeat in his ears was deafening, the air had taste, his muscles tensed and relaxed as he ran fingers over the skin and all of it was new. All of it was intense and vibrant as he moved from body to body and life to life. Eating, sleeping, drinking, all of it. He wanted all of it. He wanted to freeze, he wanted to burn. He wanted to touch, he wanted to tear. He wanted to drink and he wanted to drown . All of it was so new. All of it was intense . All of it was satisfying. Every new thing was a high.

The sea smelled like salt, he would have never thought that. It tasted like salt too, and it made him vomit when he drank it. Vomiting felt disgusting, and feeling that was incredible. The sun above that same sea made his vessel's skin turn a different colour, and when he waited long enough it burned and blistered and peeled. It was a different burn than the first time he stuck his hand inside a fireplace, but both were painful. Feeling pain for the first time was blinding. It was fun . There were so many human things that were fun. Rum and violence and meaningless games, nights spent in seedy ports, and all the different ways he could find to dispose of spent bodies once they became too damaged for him to continue inhabiting them. He spent centuries chasing sensations. Everything, pleasure or pain, was good.

Until it wasn’t.

Until eventually, every sensation and experience had been done over and over until it was all done in. At first, even the blandest of meals had been enough to satisfy. The newness of it all made even the slightest hint of flavour overwhelming. But with the years it stopped being enough, until he wanted none of it, and couldn’t even feel the hunger pains of the resulting starvation.

Everything followed that same pattern. The pleasure, the pain, none of it was fun anymore.

That was when he surrendered himself to asking for help.

Jheselbraum was kind, and he hated her for it. She spoke gently. Insultingly so, like he was some wayward child in need of direction. Or a pitiful addict like those strung out in the opium dens.

“Technically, everyone's addicted to being alive.” Bill retorted behind a broken smile. “You should see their reactions when I make them quit.”

In the end, he shouldn’t have bothered going to her. There was no help to get. She told him he was too destructive. That if she helped him find a way to enter the world as himself, every living thing would suffer. Never mind that he was suffering. He should have killed her, but the frilly bastard wouldn’t let him. Instead he decided he would have to take it upon himself and find his own way back to his old gateway and salvage it.

He had a sneaking suspicion of how Ford had heard about ‘Port Cascada’. Bill’s first permanent body had been back in the early 16th century: A conquistador captain who had been easy enough to convince to hand over his body and ship to a ‘divine being’ on promises of glory and a city made of gold. They’d been a band of thugs already, Bill just made it official. When he eventually lost that first ship, the crew scattered and some took with them stories and relics.

Ford’s father was a merchant dealing in exotic goods and antiques from the brave new world. If any of Bill’s old things had found their way there, he needed them back. He needed to find Cascada again, no matter the price. He’d sail to the arctic and personally dig out time baby if he needed to. Compared to that, breaking into a shop and killing the owners was nothing. But he couldn’t find anything useful. Whatever had given Ford the name wasn’t there anymore. 

The registry gave him a few crumbs to follow though. He found records of his first crewmates’ ships diaries; bought but never sold, and yet still nowhere to be found as he turned the house upside down looking for them. The only other relevant item was an old tapestry with an item description Bill was sure he recognized. It had been sold to a Spaniard with a name Bill thought he remembered from his old crew, a possible descendant if nothing else. Following the lead eventually brought him to the Northwest family.

The Northwest family brought him to a young girl returning back from London. He led his crew in intercepting the ship and taking the girl to demand the relic in ransom, but in doing so was shot and bled out back onboard The Isosceles.

It had happened before. Plenty of times, enough that it was routine. Pyronica disfigured the body to avoid anyone identifying it and catching on. They’d done it often, discarding used vessels into the sea. But this time it didn't go to plan.

This time, the body was found by the worst possible people. This time, a discarded corpse with its face burned off set off a chain of events that lead to Bill’s most blatant death yet. This time, there would be no quietly recovering the remains and carrying on as if nothing had happened.

This time, Stan, Ford, and everyone had to die before they could tell.

[clairecrive]

hello!! can you maybe write a nikolai x reader (she’s a heartrender) and they’ve been best friends since childhood and finally got together during the war, and he proposes to her once he becomes king? And she’s scared to say yes because the country might not want a Grisha queen but she eventually says yes?

Love Story

a/n: I missed my boy and so here's a fluffy piece for him. Thanks for requesting anon, hope you like this! x

Warning: none, pure fluff

Word count: 2.1K

Tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @randomoutsiders, @agentsofsheilds, @for-bebbanburg, @pansysgirlfriend, @hannaxmaria, @vintagebitc

(if you want to, you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

It was late when Nikolai walked into his room. It always was. He was the first one to get up and the last one to go to bed, assuring that everything was going as it was supposed to.

Such was the life of a king.

Well, Nikolai wasn't king yet. But with his father's illness, it won't be long 'till he was.

He had been dreaming about this all his life. Hell, this was everything he had trained to be. Ignored every rumours and gossip and slander, focused only on one thing: becoming the man that Ravka needed.

And now the moment had finally come.

Nikolai could barely believe it. Yes, he was ambitious and skilled. He knew that he was the right person for this job. Either way, he was nervous.

Whenever he pictured this moment as a young boy, he had always thought that it'd be the end. The coronation being the cusp of his personal fulfilment.

But things had changed.

Now his coronation didn't hold any finality to it. It felt like the beginning of something new if anything. Something that Nikolai had been extensively planning for and was extremely excited for. But since it was something new, something that had never been done before, the uncertainty of how it could go made him a bit nervous.

Because now he wasn't alone.

A fierce heartrender had become his partner, his confidante, his better half.

Trying to be as silent as possible, Nikolai quickly undressed before joining you to bed. It was routine for you. Nikolai would come home late, you'd be deep in slumber by then, but he would always hold you close to him and kiss your neck to warn you of his presence. That would usually wake you but you'd never get angry. Actually, you were the one that told him to let you know when he got back. If only to make sure that he was okay.

"All good love, go to sleep." He'd whisper then in your ear. You wouldn't move, only wiggle close to him and pull his arm over your body so that you could hold his hand.

To be fair, you had always been a constant in Nikolai's life. You had met when you were both children. He was known for being restless, always escaping his nanny's hold to go on "adventures" as he'd call them. They'd usually entail climbing over trees or exploring paths in the forest that he had never seen.

One day, during one of his quest, he had put into his head that he needed to climb the biggest tree he could find. It was easy enough to spot his challenge but doing it was another thing.

He had been able to climb a few feet, his short stature and slender limbs aiding him in his endeavour. Looking down to assess his progress, he was confident he could really make it. Overconfident really. Because too busy loading over his abilities, he didn't notice that his foot was not hovering over a branch.

So when he went to confidently put all of his weight on it and it was met with nothing, he lost his balance. He tried to grip with all his might to the branches he was holding in his hands but he wasn't strong enough. And so, he fell.

Thankfully, he hadn't climbed high enough for the fall to be fatal. But it was enough to severely injure him.

At first, the impact of the ground left him out of breath. His head hurt too. It was only when he tried to stand that he noticed that his leg was bent at an unnatural angle.

There wasn't any blood but the sight was enough to send baby Nikolai in a panic. His breath turned hollow and frantic and now that he was aware of the injury, pain shot through his leg making him sob.

It was for the noise he made that you had been able to find him.

You were also wandering around the forest but for less nefarious intent though. You had a book under your arm and you were looking for a quiet spot to read. Needless to say, as soon as you heard his wails of agony, the book fell discarded on the ground as you run toward the noise.

When you reached him you tried your best to get him to calm down. He was hyperventilating by then. You weren't that far in your training to be able to slow his heartbeat or put him to sleep. But you were skilled enough to soothe him with your touch.

That and Nikolai was too caught up in looking at you, this stranger who was trying to help him.

While you couldn't actually heal him, you kept him company until someone eventually found you.

That was how your friendship had begun until it had bloomed into something more as you grew up.

Unbeknown to you, your relationship was about to reach another mark. Holding you close to him, Nikolai willed himself to put his plan in action tomorrow.

As his coronation grew closer, he grew more and more restless. He needed to do this as soon as possible.

The next day went by as usual. When you woke up Nikolai wasn't next to you but you found a trial with your breakfast and a handwritten note on it.

It read:

"An hour before the sun sets, meet me when it all started."

While it was unusual for Nikolai to leave you little notes in his stead, the mysteriousness of it made you antsy. What could he possibly be up to?

Your day went by, as usual, a skip in you feet as you were excited about the date.

Like he had asked you, you made sure to reach that tree in the forest exactly when he asked you to.

Nikolai was already there, pacing at the foot of the tree until he noticed you standing there.

"What is going on?" Before seeing him, you hadn't thought that this meeting could be about bad news. But Nikolai looked nervous, almost scared and that didn't happen often.

"Hello, love." He greeted you walking towards you. Holding your hands in his, he raised one to his lips to leave a small kiss.

"Such a gentleman," you cooed at his gesture, his lips curling in a small smirk as a result, "what did you do?" Raising one of your eyebrows, you asked knowing that when Nikolai was so sweet it was only for two reasons: he wanted to make it up to you or he wanted to have sex. Since doing it in public places had never been appealing to him, you thought it more likely that it was the first.

"Can't a man do something nice for his better half?" He scoffed in fake hurt. You pointedly stared at him but you were smiling.

"I wanted to something nice for you," he said shyly? while shrugging your shoulders not meeting your eyes. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled you closer to the tree where you now noticed there was a white sheet laid with rose petals and candles all over it.

"Things are about to change," he said referring to his impending coronation as you reached the sheet, "and you know what I realized?"

You shook your head in reply, too enchanted by the man in front of you and the scenery around you to speak. Nikolai smiled at you, gently reaching to your face to remove a piece of hair by tucking in behind your ear. His hand gently cupped your cheek, his smile widening even more when you leaned into his touch.

"I've realized that no matter what happened in my life, where I am in the world or what name people call me, you're always the constant."

"And I don't want that to change. Ever." His eyes flicker between yours, shining with anticipation. But why? Surely he must know that you never intend to leave him.

"That it's never going to change, sasha. I'm here to stay." You assured him, your hand reaching to grab his.

His eyes flashed again, regaining their usual confident glow. He looked reassured.

"Well, you know me, my dear. Always worrying so, I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to make it official." He joked, his hands leaving your face as he kneeled.

Kneeled? He couldn't possibly...

Your breath hitched at his position. He got a little box out of his pocket before reaching for your hand again.

"Y/n, my heart, my love, the apple of my eye, you beautiful woman," he started cheekily knowing very well how calling these things would make you blush, "We were both young when I first saw you. Me making a fool out of myself by doing something stupid as per usual and you coming to save my ass. Little did I know though that that stupid adventure would give me more than a broken leg." Both of you smiled at the memory.

"if I knew that breaking a leg would be what made me meet you, I would have done sooner. And don't give me that look," he said once you glared at him, "what's a broken leg in the face of true love?" He added making you roll your eyes. Always smooth with his words. Damn him.

"Because that's what we have, a love story. And it may not be conventional with me dragging you all over the world doing reckless things, assuming different identities and everything but it's our love story. And it's beautiful, I wouldn't change it for the world. So baby, please, just say yes and make me the luckiest bastard in the world."

His words, his hopeful smile and shining eyes were too much for you to contain your tears. They were happy tears, you both knew that. There was no way you could say no to him. But at the same time, you were a bit hesitant. Nikolai painted a wonderful picture but you knew that the reality was a bit harsher.

Kneeling as well, you also gripped his hands.

"You're my whole heart, sasha, I hope you know it." You started, your voice wavering a bit. Nikolai's face fell for a moment sensing that there was a "but" coming. But it only lasted so long before his face morphed into that stubborn expression he'd always have whenever he'd set on getting something.

"I'd be a fool to say no to you, Nikolai," you added hastily hoping to rectify your mistake. "But I can't help but worry."

"You're going to be king soon and I'm not sure how much having a Grisha consort will help you."

Where his lips were pursed in confusion now they were set in a line. Knowing what was troubling you relieved him. That was easily fixed.

"So what, my love? I'll be a king and you'll be the queen. You've fought for this country just as much as I have. Besides, you're a fool if you think that I'm going to leave you just because I'll be addressed by a different title."

The hold on your hands felt reassuring, the sheer determination and honesty in his eyes even more. You knew Nikolai and you knew that he was ambitious as well as stubborn. And loyal. Your heart warmed at his words that you knew were true. He was not going to let you go.

Suddenly, the realisation of your feelings for him and his feelings for you overwhelmed you. A sob broke through your lips making worry return in Nikolai's eyes.

"Saints Nikolai, you have no fucking idea how grateful I am you fell down that tree that day." You confessed, eyes welling with tears.

"So am I, my love. My leg a bit less but..." you both chuckled.

Returning serious, Nikolai went to open the velvet box he was holding. The Lantsov's emerald. Your eyes widened when they fell on it. You had known about it but you had never seen it before.

"Nikolai-" you whispered in astonishment.

"I know it's not exactly your style but this was fit for a queen. My mother gave it to me and I want you to have it." He said sensing your hesitancy.

"Can I also have a kiss?" You asked cheekily batting your eyelids. Nikolai laughed at your antics. He quickly slipped the ring around your finger before cradling your face and pulling you close.

"You don't have to ask twice." And with that, his lips crashed on yours. He kissed you slowly at first, just your lips touching. But as soon as the realisation of what had happened dawned on him, the kiss grew frantic. His hands were in your hairs as yours were wrapped around the collar of his coat, pulling him impossibly close to you.

Life with Nikolai wasn't easy but his love was the most real thing you had ever felt. Nothing in the world meant more to you than he did. Ring or not.

[auty-ren]

Salvation

Prologue

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader. Din Djarin x Reader. Mand’alor!Mando x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Canon-type violence. Mentions of death/injury. Canon divergency. Yearning. Panic and similar themes. The teensiest bit of steamy stuff.

A/N: We’re just getting started babes and holy shit I'm so excited for Mand'alor!Mando. We get to see the best of both worlds! Clan Leader Mando + Dark!Mando. Enjoy💗

Salvation Masterlist | My Masterlist

There was a vice that kept hold of your being, suspended between two planes of existence as you sat helpless to watch time pass at an agonizing pace. It filled you with dread, a heavy and pulling weight that settled in your stomach and had you glued to the floor; praying that the next thrum of violence that waged outside your door would be softer.

You hoped and pleaded every second you sat cowering in your home wouldn't be in vain, that something good would come of the war that had been building in weeks prior. The violence that crept over your village somewhat overnight, an uneasiness that settled between neighbors, and had people barricading their doors with fear.

You squeezed your palms tighter over your ears at the shrill sound of gunfire piercing through the walls of your home. The ground felt alive with footfalls and the impact fire, defeating sounds muffled between layers of durasteel were all you could hear, save for a few lost words that winded aimlessly through the air.

From your window you made out a figure that streamed across the sky; their form bulky and unnatural around the faint release of a jetpack that followed behind them.

Mandalorians had been passing through your village for as long as you could remember. Quiet and brooding warriors who often demanded very little and hardly left a trace that they had ever stepped foot in your town. You felt nothing but respect, considering that all your life you had seen the kindness that had been disguised behind layers of beskar and tall-tales of savage upbringings. As a child, you remember them speaking so softly to you, something that clashed with their demeanor and the heavy blasters that often rested on their hips.

There was never trouble, any thug that had made their way into your village was soon left scrambling at the sight of your guardians. No one ever dared to speak a harsh word in their presence, and your people were left with safe and warm homes that prospered when it felt the Galaxy was falling apart.

Mandalorians had protected you all of your life. But now you wanted more than anything for them to disappear, to fade away like the final wisps of smoke from dying embers. 

You just wanted the noise to stop.

Your eyes had dried beyond the point of tears, streaks of their remnants covered your face and left your skin feeling raw and tacky as your eyes squeezed shut. You heaved a dry sob as the walls of your home shook again, tremors vibrating at the ends of your fingertips as they scraped across the floor. Your joints ache from sitting so long, from trembling in the corner of your home as the only way to seek shelter.

There is a heavy thump that breaks through the noise, something solid that lands over your head. You can hear the unmistakable sound of footfalls as they walk across your ceiling, each step like a knife that twists deeper and deeper into an already gushing wound. Your grasp for anything you can reach, the leg of the table next to you, a book that had fallen from your desk, anything to ward off whatever was making its way to your front door. You felt pathetic, sure that whoever would burst into your home in the next seconds would find joy in the way your hands shook as you held them up in front of you, your only defense.

The weight that you had been holding in your shoulders came crashing down at the sound of a masked voice coming from your door. The shadow of their legs briefly visible through the gap in the door as lights flashed behind them, gunfire ringing through the small room as they barked a message about ‘Imps’ into their commlink.

‘Imperials’ they called themselves, led by the magistrate elect to ‘relieve our town from the clutches of oppressive rulers,’ or so they put it. Suddenly your town was full of strangers, of mercenaries with nasty tendencies that left you hesitant to leave your doorstep. Your home was turned into a hellhole in a matter of weeks, warm and kind faces were replaced with snarling teeth that spit evil in your direction every time you faced them. 

‘All in the name of progress.’

Destruction was the only thing that progressed in these short months, and Moff Gideon had no trouble thriving off every ounce of sacrifice he could squeeze from your town. Gideon had used any and all authority he had to wage war on the Mandalorians, the people you considered your protectors. You and nearly half of the village knew he was crazy for doing such a thing, for provoking the wrath of a people who had carved legends of war and battle into every corner of the Galaxy. All of this suffering because he was too greedy for something that was never his.

Your limbs were heavy by the time sunlight peered over the horizon, brief wisps of warmth dancing across your eyelids as you blinked awake from where you sat.

There was nothing but silence, heavy silence that was damning after a night of constant chaos. Early morning fog still lingered, your breath puffing in front of your face as you pulled yourself to stand. Your door was ripped open before you could even think, your only thought wanting to be able to witness whatever had been left in last night's wake.

The ground was firm and solid beneath your feet, your legs shaking as you stepped off the porch of your home and for the first time in forever everything was still. There was nothing but the faint shuffle of your feet across the ground, and the muffled conversations in the homes you passed by. It seemed you weren’t the only one who was curious; familar faces grew in number, their eyes wide and interested in the wreckage just as you were, everyone you met wondered what would become next. Some of them wept, holding whoever was closest as relief washed over them. Some of them celebrated, cheers echoing through streets as they basked in the absence of Imperials in their homes.

You stood, staring down an alley where the body of an Imperial laid unmoving in the dirt, their white armor smudged, cracking, and littering the wet ground. The reality of what had been happening only a few hours prior laid heavy on your chest, curling tight around your ribs until you felt there was no way to take a breath.

Your hands were shaking as you reached for your face, covering your lip as it trembled from swelling emotion and finally breaking away from the scene before you. You backtracked, fully intent on turning to run back the way you had come when you bumped into someone; their arm came up to grab yours, steadying you as their questions fell upon deaf ears. You stared at the woman before you, the brows knit in concern as she repeated her question.

“Are you alright?”

Everything was starting to bleed together, the sounds of people emerging from their homes suddenly became far too loud, and your awareness of where you stood punching you in the gut. You winced away from the woman, pulling your arm from her grip and ignoring how she called after you. Your lungs swelled with each heaving breath you took, the ground beneath you disappearing faster and faster as you tried to find your way home. Neighboring villagers found their ways into the streets, crowding alleyways and blocking your way home. You ran into a few of them, whispered apologies falling from your lips as you fought to hold yourself upright.

You needed to take a breath. You needed to slow down.

There was no distinction between the voice in your head and the concerned words of people you passed; friends, neighbors, all people you had known for most of your life.

They just want to help and part of you doesn't understand why you don't listen to them.

The ache that tears through your skull sends waves of nausea down your spine, your eyes blinking slowly at the dirt that sat just a few inches from your face. Your breath disturbed it, puffs of clay-colored soil swirling in front of you, and some of it landing on your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, your entire side sore from how hard you had hit the ground. It was slow, your limbs feeling heavy and weighed even with adrenaline buzzing underneath your skin.

There was hardly any noise now, just a few whispers that danced between the crowds; the tail ends of sentences being lost as they shush themselves. You hear the scuffle of boots hitting the ground, their gate heavy and kicking up dirt in your peripheral. The dark-colored toe of someone's boot walks into your line of sight, you watch the leather come to a stop just a few inches from where your hand pressed into the mud. You followed the boot up the length of its owner’s body until you were met with the bulky visor of a beskar helmet, embers of the morning sun peeking out from behind the silver shine. 

He offers his hand out to you, the ends of his gloves a bright orange that was weathered at the tips. The leather was worn but soft to the touch as his hand wrapped around yours, pulling you to your feet with just a little bit more force than necessary. Your hand shot out to brace yourself against his chest, your weight falling against the solid expanse of his cuirass as you huffed out a curse. Your head was still spinning as you clung to him, trying to find balance on your own two feet as you looked at the stranger. His armor looked new, bright, and unsoiled save for the dirt that smudged from where you had touched it; your eyes are drawn to the obnoxious color offset by the dark linen of his clothes. You mutter an apology, moving to separate yourself from him but find yourself trapped under the arm he used to steady you.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the other Mandos who are waiting on him. Their armors a deep matching blue with white accents on the face of their masks, they stood at attention as if they were waiting on their next command. You looked back at the man in front of you, who you assumed was their leader, your hand still laying on his chest and your faces even closer than they had been before.

His hand hesitated just a breath away from your face, his fingers twitching before he pushed strands of your hair out of your eyes, the leather of his glove tickling the shell of your ear. The knuckles of his fingers traced down your jaw, his touch light and curious as he studied you. His thumb stopped at the apex of your cheek and he drags the pad of it across the same spot of skin a few times, brushing off the dirt that had stuck to your face.

You could hardly breathe under his attention, your lungs burning from how long you waited in between small intakes of breath. His hand was still warm against your face, his other fingers flexing on the hold he kept around your waist. Every second dragged on as you looked at him, studied what little you could see from the layers he wore around his being. Oddly enough, it felt that he was doing the same to you, his gaze felt like a burn as it trailed along with your features, your chest feeling tight and your cheeks hot from how overwhelmed he made you.

And then he was gone.

His hold on you released and he turned back in the direction he had been walking, followed by the Mandos who had stopped and waited for him. They parted the crowds that had formed in the streets, their presence enough to leave anyone in standing back, awestruck just as you had been. You watched their forms disappear from your sight until finally they turned a corner, and you never saw them again.

-

It feels impossible to sleep that night.

Though it had only been a few months, the soured pit in your stomach was telling that memories of Imperials wouldn't fade so easily. There wasn't enough water to wash away the stain that their greed had left behind. Everyone seemed happy, smiling freely and feasting in celebration as the day turned to dusk, and as dusk turned to night you sat, staring at the ceiling of your home and buzzing with something you couldn't quite pin down. You studied the crack that had split that ran from one corner of your home to the next, fresh and taunting you with how you had been cowering beneath this roof only a day ago; watching the stone give way as the very foundation of your house shook. Just outside you could hear voices again; quiet, content voices that felt unfamiliar, almost out of place amongst the chaos that had been living recently.

How could it be over so quickly?

It only took a day, not even that. Your village was wiped clean, the only evidence that there had even been Imperials, were scraps that had been piled together throughout the streets. Pieces of equipment, armor, a couple of uniforms that had been discarded were all that was left of them. And most of it was being discarded without a second thought. 

You had always heard stories of what Mandalorians could be capable of, but you had never believed them.

People liked to talk, to tell stories. It was easy to believe the tales of warrior races were just constructed, exaggerations of the true history of their people. But you were wrong. You hoped that you stayed wrong, that this wasn't temporary or even worse, a dream.

With every night that passed, it became easier, sleeping without worry you would wake up in hell all over again. It came over you slowly. Ease? Relief? Tranquility long enough for you to rest a few hours, then wake up to rebuild the life that had almost been taken from you. It finally felt safe. Safe to live, safe to breathe, safe to dream again.

But then all at once, it was swept out from under you and your heart plummeted when you answered the door to find two guards standing on your front steps.

“Can I help you?”

You noticed the way he ducked his head, his helmet cock-eyed when he looked at you to keep it from knocking with the frame of your doorway. He spoke very softly, almost gentle in the way he said your name; a stark contrast to the beaten, dull blue armor he wore and the heavy blaster strapped to his back. You looked over his shoulder at the female that followed him, her back was turned to you as she scanned the street in front of your home. She wasn’t as large as he was, but her armor was just as thick and a beautiful maroon color that glinted in the sun when she turned to face you.

They both waited for you to answer, turning to look at each other when you gave them a small nod, confirming that they had found who they were looking for.

“The Mand’alor has sent us for you.” The woman spoke, her tone clipped as she took a step closer. “Please. Come with us.”

Your fingernails dug into the softwood of the door frame, your skin burning from the way it dragged across the rough terrain until you released it, balling your fist at your side. You made no other attempt at moving, and neither did they. 

There would be no point in arguing, you would never be able to outrun two Mandalorians, but it felt very tempting at that moment.

“The….Mand’alor?”

You had heard the name before, a few of the Mandalorians in town had spoken it in passing and while you had never asked them who or what it meant, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

They had asked for you by name, and they were too occupied to come and find you themselves. 

You tried to wrack your brain for anything you could’ve done to cause this, of what could have upset someone to this point.

But then again, if they were upset, they probably would’ve just had you killed.

You looked behind you at the mess that was strewn across your room, crates of your belongings dumped in the tiny space and making it much smaller than it seemed. There was no telling where you were going, or how long you’d be gone but maybe you could take a few things with you.

“Can I have a minute please?”

You moved to shut the door, just wanting a little privacy to get a bag ready, but you were stopped when the female guard’s arm shot out, holding the frame still just a few inches before it would’ve closed.

“You don't need to take anything.” She huffed and pushed the door back open, stepping through the threshold to stand directly in front of you. “Come with us.”

You couldn't think of anything to say, not that she wanted a response from you, you just stood there staring at the two Mandalorians who crowded your doorway. She practically snarled an order at you, becoming increasingly impatient with how unresponsive you were.

“Now.”

-

Sometime later

“I-... I don't understand.”

He had you pinned, backed into a wall that you wished would open up and swallow you whole. Your face burned with shame but you couldn't figure out from what. From him? From how close he stood to you? From how every word that dripped from his lips was sweet? Like thick, sugary honey that became far more addictive than any spice you ever heard of; and you were glutenous in wanting more of those delicious words that he seemed so confident saying.

Shamefully so.

“Don't worry about such things.”

His thumb ran delicately over the bottom of your lip, tracing down until he held your chin in between it and his forefinger. He tipped your face to look up at him, his knuckles brushing across your throat as his hand fell to your chest. His fingers splayed across your exposed skin, his gloves are warm and soft as they made their way back up and finally wrapped around your neck.

“You're here now.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers flexed, his grip almost ghosting, as if he was afraid you'd break under any pressure.

You wished you could see his face, the blank stare of his visor did not indicate what he was thinking; though you imagined he was enjoying this from the way he touched you. He was like molten that left your skin burning in its wake, your heart fluttering as he moved over every inch that was shown to him. He held your jaw in the palm of his hand, his helmet coming only a hairbreadth away from your face; your breath puffing clouds of condensation on the smooth surface.

“You're mine.”

-

A/n pt2: I’ll give a sticker to whoever can guess who the female guard Mando was lol

Taglists

Salvation

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[anika-ann]

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.  

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.  

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’  Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

[chanluster]

two types of fireworks | {f} ; mild {c}

oneshot | tangled! au | historical! au | 21.2k words

“ who could be better adventurers than a wanted thief and a girl with magical hair? ”

s u m m a r y > > when you find a notorious thief wounded within the woods you wondered, you heal him, not realising that the same man will lead you to your destination, and the few feelings you’ll develop along the way.

c o n t e n t s > > long haired flynn rider! hyunjin, rapunzel! reader, irritated companions to lovers, a lot of fluff, kkami is a horse, hyunjin gets SOOOO angry with you all the time, teasing, hyunjin gets flustered easily, everyone in skz included cause i miss them everyday, jisung is the villain iMSOSORRY, a few swear words sprinkled throughout, perhaps? sexual tension? never r e a l l y addressed, and of course, some familiar disney scenes

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e > > once again, i cannot control myself and wrote double the intended word count!! i hope you like and reblog if enjoy this homies, and remember, long-haired hyunjin domination!!!

back to masterlist

YOU WONDERED WHEN YOU WOULD FINALLY GET OUT OF THE FOREST.

Bag slung over your shoulder, your naked feet skimmed through the soft grass as you trudged on, waiting for an opening within the infinite trees to your destination beyond. 

It was days like this that you wished Mother had a horse at the foot of the tower. Even though it was a creature you had never seen, you had studied its striking figure within the illustrated books your mother gifted on countless birthdays, their natural-coloured coats, long, beautiful faces and poses of them galloping across green fields.

Green fields you wished had greeted you sooner.

The only sound of the entire forest was the rustling of leaves upon branches, woodland creatures here and there scrambling for food, or for shelter within the thousands of trees surrounding you. Even the sun could not break through the dense masses of nature, only slivers of light shooting through the leaves, providing light for your journey. 

Hard. The paths were hard, your feet getting slightly muddied, and even your water was slowly running thin, leather skin holding about a day’s worth of water left. Your food was stocked, collecting apples from the nature above, but you knew you needed a proper meal if you had not a clue of when you were to arrive at your hidden destination.

You knew what you were searching for. You just did not know where to search.

Sighing, you felt your spirits dampen the further you lumbered on, the mass rings of hair wound around your other arm a heavy weight. The locks were endless, making a trail behind you. You tried to gather up as much hair as you could manage, but the damned mess refused to listen. Irritancy furrowed your brows, and you let out a shallow sigh, cursing fate for being so cruel.

Within the trees, you spotted an opening - a sliver of light beyond the tunnel of nature. You gasped, picking up the pace of your feet, running out and breaking free of the leafy barrier.

Before you were not the opening fields you expected, but rather a small pond, cocooned within the trees you ploughed through. The water looked pure, glimmering from the sunlight which now freely fell upon the opening. It was a peaceful sight, but still could not stop the disappointment reaching your face as you slumped your shoulders.

Brilliant.Yet another dead end.

You were about to head for the pond when you heard distant shouting. 

Fear froze over you, expecting your mother breaking through the bushes.

Your instincts had you dashing for the trees again, gathering your hair and hiding behind the bushes. The aggravated voice grew louder, but the closer it came, you realised with confusion that it was not laced with anger. It was laced with pain.

Suddenly, something broke out of the bushes. You nearly let out a childish yelp.

It was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

Hell, it was the only man you had ever seen - you would have kept staring in awe were not your features distorted with worry. This man stumbled to a nearby tree looking over the pond, one hand clinging onto the trunk as the other hugged his abdomen, fingers stained with the blood caked upon his turquoise vest. Dear God, there was so much blood.

He whirled, back to the trunk, and slumped down, legs spread before him as his mouth parted, letting out shallow breaths as he tried to stop the bleeding. His head frantically darted, looking everywhere, and then tilted his head back against the wood as he closed his eyes. Sweat matted his locks, beaded down his cheeks, and he hissed as his hand held his bloodied side tighter. His satchel had been discarded before the pond, a few papers and food spilling from the opening.

You watched him whither slowly, fingers threading through your hair. You wanted to help; of course you did, but you held back. Perhaps fear still crept at the back of your neck, but you hid behind the bushes, waiting for what might happen.

Minutes later, you wished you ran to his help instead. The man, after heaving rapidly, left his hand upon the wound, thumping down on the ground, slumping fully against the tree.

Your eyes widened at the realisation. 

In that space of a few seconds, you knew. 

Whoever he was, you had to save him.

Feet nearly stumbling upon huge tree roots, you rushed around the pond. Hair getting caught in a few twigs, you did not glance back as you tugged at the meters of locks, the man’s face now closer in your vision.

You dropped down to where he sagged against the trunk, unrolling your locks from your arm, eyes darting frantically to his figure. Instantly finding the horrific wound, cutting through the fabric and his skin, you slide your hand through curtains of your hair, taking out a long trail and tugging the ends to you. 

With hesitation, but then determined certainty, your hands unbuttoned the man’s vest, taking every single nerve in your body not to glance at his face. The white shirt underneath was stained with blood as well, which you raised up to his top part of his chest, exposing his granite-hard abdomen. You would have even blushed were it not such a grave situation you found yourself in, blood oozing out of the injury.

With a final, long draw of breath, you grabbed the locks of your hair, carefully tying them around the man’s waist. You made sure the strands covered every single ribboned area of his stomach, praying to fate for this miracle. The only injuries you had treated were cuts from paper and burns from hot trays of cupcakes. A slash this deep and serious was going to be another matter entirely.

Once you were done securing the hair, you put your hand upon the locks guarding the injury, and closed your eyes.

The words that left your mouth nearly silenced the forest.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

A spark.

“Let your power shine.”

You felt the glow hum beneath your fingers.

“Make the clock reverse.

“Bring back what once, was mine.”

You dared not open your eyes as you sang, sensing the miracle of your hair threading itself around the unconscious man, assessing the wound, driving inside and repairing the damage done upon his skin. You dared not stop singing, fearing for his life.

“Heal what has been hurt.”

The magic obliged to your call, slowly knitting the wound, working on the scarring, the loss of blood. 

“Change the Fate’s design.”

The lost flesh formed miraculously underneath your fingertips, tendrils of muscle knitting within itself, saving the abdomen from complete ruination. You carried on, squeezing your eyes further shut.

“Save what has been lost.”

You felt the damp blood dry in the moments, the newly created muscle now raising your hand slightly as warmth radiated around you, courtesy of the otherworldly glow of your hair. It comforted your nerves, still there despite knowing you had brought the man out of grave danger.

“Bring back what once was mine…”

You took a deep breath, both hands upon his wound.

“What once was mine.”

You paused.

Opened your eyes.

There he still was, leaned back before you, dreaming away with a restored peace, lost when he got slashed in his gut. His top half was splayed out before you, abdomen all healed save for a dried blood scattered here and there. You turned to the pond, straining as you cupped some water and splashed it upon the crust, hitching your dress and using the ends to wipe the mess away. 

As you wiped you looked up at his face — it was then you noticed the little details; his closed eyes, the groomed brows — the straight nose, gosh, the full lips, slightly parted mouth. You could not help but stare at the man, sleeping in tranquility with the nature around him. It was almost like he did not possess a grave wound moments before.

You realised when you glanced down that he was still bare waist up, and with heated cheeks raised your hands to the hem gathered at the top of his chest. Your eyes darted, and locked with his open ones, and reverted back to the shirt to yank it down—

You stopped completely in your tracks. 

Widened your eyes.

Tilted your head up to see the man’s opened eyes, just as wide as yours, the lips you shamelessly stared at not so long ago parted more. 

It was a few seconds before the heavy silence was shattered.

With the man’s rather shrill scream.

“OH MY GOD—!”

Suddenly he wasn’t slumped against the tree, but shooting straight up, backing away from you. Stunned, you retreated a few steps too, watching his slender eyes nearly shoot out of his sockets.

“Who are you?! What did you do to me?! How am I not dead—?!” his questions kept coming, head darting to where his satchel lay. He jumped towards it, frantically searching for some kind of weapon only to find a few posters and salted meat. He then perked his head towards you, immediately positioning himself in a fighting stance, fists out.

“Don’t make me fight you, girl!” he exclaimed, warning written in his face. “If I have no sword I can fight with my fists!”

That was a convenient time to whip out a weapon of your own, but you only argued with words.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I promise!” you reasoned, hands raised. 

“Then why were you so close?! Bombarded in my face and fiddling with my shirt?!” he showed off his chest, now covered by the white material, turquoise vest still open. “Oh, dear God, what did you do?!”

“Nothing!” you proclaimed, pointing towards your chest. “I only healed your wounds!” You took a step closer. “You were going to die!”

Hesitantly, the man followed your finger, lifting his shirt up to see his side, completely free of scarring, of the slash that haunted his skin. He then looked to you once more, anger being replaced with pure fear.

He let out another unnecessary scream.

“WITCH!” 

The tree stopped him backing up any further, and he watched you with pure horror, expecting you to grow fangs, form claws and gut you mercilessly. You only regarded the beautiful, yet rather silly man with incredulity.

“I’m not a witch,” you grumbled, crossing your arms, “I just have hair that glows when I sing.”

That did not help your situation at all.

“Because that’s normal, is it not?!” he yelped, and dashed behind the tree, taking notice of your hair. “And having a kingdom's worth of hair on your head isn’t something out of a grim fairytale?!”

“Well that ‘grim fairytale’-like hair is what saved you from death,” you snapped, hand slipping into your satchel, feeling the handle of your frying pan. “Ungrateful man!”

“Witch!” he growled right back.

“Ungrateful man!”

“Witch!”

“Ungrateful man!”

The man soured up, his raven locks caressing his cheeks as the wind rustled the forest. Both of you stared each other down, pan-handle jutting out of the satchel, and the other’s fists raised once more, half of his figure behind the tree still. None of you backed down. None of you dared lose to the other.

Minutes past, the only sound being the water softly lapping in the pond. The man let out a sigh, breaking the stare.

“I’m leaving.”

He picked up his satchel, a stray poster falling to the ground. You watched it descend, asking, “What, where?”

“None of your business.” He dusted himself off, buttoning up his vest. “I can’t waste my time here.”

You ignored his cold answer, and picked up the poster. It advertised the day of the Fireworks, a couple of weeks away, and boasted of the activities happening in the Kingdom of Corona. 

An excited gasp escaped you.

“You!” 

The man turned, frowning. “What now?”

You ran to where he stood, blocking his vision with the poster. “You know of Corona? Do you know where it is?”

Grunting, he waved the paper away from his face. “Of course I do.” He slung his bag over his head. “I was going to go there before I got rudely stabbed.”

A thrilling wave washed over you, barely containing your smile. “You’re still going then, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—” the man stopped talking.

Began glaring at you.

“You’re not coming with me.”

The smile fell instantly.

“But wait!” You hurried over to him, but he reflexively dodged your advances. “We’re journeying to the same destination!”

“So?” He straightened his vest once more, and turned his icy stare towards you. “That, if I can remember correctly, is not my problem.” 

“But I do not know where the Kingdom is!” You tried to break his shell, the constant rejections of teaming up. 

“Refer to my previous point, witch.”

“I’m not a witch!” you sniped, getting more and more irritated with his discouraging demeanour. “I save you from the claws of oblivion, and this is how you repay me!”

He gritted his teeth. “I never asked you to save me.”

You scoffed, shocked by his total lack of gratitude. “Oh, really?” You finally brought out your own weapon. “Then I can gladly bring you back to your original state!”

The man stared at the black frying pan before bursting into laughter.

His shameless laughter made you even angrier, and you swung the pan back, another bad remark and it’ll hit home.

“A frying pan!” He gasped out, clutching his stomach. “What are you going to do? Fry my food to hurt me?”

You let out a roar as you swung the pan right onto his head.

With a sharp PANG! It banged against his head and the man let out a hideous yelp, gripping his head.

“What are you doing?!” he cried out, doubling over before the pond. 

You only positioned yourself once more, the weapon hovering above your head. “Don’t insult my frying pan ever again. Nor my hair, you bastard.”

He groaned painfully in response, massaging his head to soothe the pain of the metal. “How do you think,” he guttered, looking over his shoulder at you, “I’m ever going to let you come with me after you nearly knocked me out?”

You did not break his stare. “Because I can easily do it again.

“Take me to the Kingdom of Corona. I saved your life, and it’s the least you can do in return.”

Again, the battle of eyes, refusing to surrender. You did not even know the man’s name, but you wished to swing the frying pan upon him, really make sure to wreck that awfully beautiful face.

That made you scowl further. Why was he so ravishing?

Whether it was your stubbornness, or the promise of another beating, the man stood straighter, a heavy exhale leaving his lips.

“Fine. You win.”

He turned fully to you, not leaving your eyes. 

“You may accompany me to the Kingdom.”

The minute the words left his mouth, you flung your arms back, letting out a howl of victory.

“I’m going to see the fireworks!”

You ran around the tree, hair looping around the trunk as you hooted in pleasure. “I’m going to see the fireworks, I’m going to see the fireworks, I’m going to see the fireworks!

The man, still caressing his head, hissed at the commotion you made. “Oh, be quiet!”

Ignoring him completely, you continued your unpredictable running, until the former trudged up and stopped you in his tracks, gripping you by your arms.

“Stop!”

You returned his sour expression with a brilliant smile. “I can’t help it! I’ve been wanting to see the fireworks for a very long time.”

“Whatever.” He let you go, looking around the forest. “But before we go anywhere…”

He settled his eyes upon you. For once, there wasn’t any scorn alight in them. 

“At least you can tell me your name.”

You pondered a bit. “Tell me yours first.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He held out his hand.

“Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin, at your service, even though I don’t wish to be.”

You stared at his hand. 

“Why did you raise your hand at me?” You asked in confusion, pan still in yours.

The man — Hyunjin — regarded you in disbelief. “You...you don’t…?” He cocked his head, retracting his hand. “Where did you come from, witch?”

“Again with the witch!” You exclaimed, cutting distance to his face, hovering the pan under his chin in warning. 

“How about,” he started, lowering your weapon with his hand, “You pause the constant threats, and tell me your name?”

With a cautious eye still upon him, you obliged. “____.”

“____,” he repeated. “____,” he continued, as if tasting the very name that identified you. “Well, then, ____, the first thing we’re to do is search for Kkami.”

“Kkami?” Your eyes followed his every move, as he brought out his own leather skin, filling it with the water from the pond. You reflected his move, replenishing your own water.

“My horse,” he clarified, placing the skin within his satchel, closing the straps. “He must not be far.”

That snippet of information nearly had you screaming. “You have a horse?!” You asked eagerly, earning a hiss from the man.

“What are you so excited for? It’s just a horse.” He then sighed, tying locks of his hair in a half-up ponytail. “Yes, I do have a horse. So does half the kingdom.”

“I’ve never seen a horse before my eyes,” you explained, wonder misting your eyes, yet clearing your mind. You knew you had to find this ‘Kkami’ soon.

Hyunjin glanced at you, curiosity knitted onto his features. “You really do surprise me. It’s as if you’ve never left your home in your life.”

You could only offer him a smile. “You can say that again.”

“Come.” He started up a rather fast walk, separating the bushes with his hands. “He must not be far.”

You followed his trail, sparing one last look over your shoulder at the pond, then turning towards this Hwang Hyunjin, the man who would lead you to your destination. 

The Fireworks of Corona.

For the next hours calls for Kkami were being pursued by the two of you, with little to no result, for a horse could not possibly call back on his searchers. Hyunjin showed no mercy in his marching, and you refused to let him show you mercy, despite your legs on the brink of collapsing.

After another hour the both of you broke away from the forests, and found a cobblestone road, leading to an unknown destination. Signs decorated the pole standing on the opposite side of the road, and the man stepped onto the path, assessing the places mentioned.

“Ah!” He spoke out after. “The Wolf’s Den.” 

“What is that? Your home?”

“An inn, not far from here.” He looked to his left, the continuing pathway. “I stop there often in between journeys, so perhaps Kkami went there to wait for me.”

“Well, what are you standing around here for?” You sprung up in front of him, a tired grin etched into your features, a beacon of hope now beyond the road. That inn better be within the next ten steps.

Sure enough, there were only mere minutes of walking before you set your eyes upon a wooden cottage, it’s sign, displaying The Wolf’s Den, swaying within the cool woodland breeze. Distant noise was heard while you both walked towards the inn, howling and boisterous laughter ringing through the forest.

Hyunjin let out a sigh of relief, picking up the pace of his stride. 

Confused, you followed his line of sight, and let out an excited gasp at what he ran towards. 

Horses. Real horses, right before your eyes.

There were different colours of the animal, slick brown and black and white coats, but the one the man strolled towards, almost a skip in his step, possessed the opposite colours, black and white scattered upon its body, an unusual yet beautiful combination. The horse softly neighed when its owner laid a nurturing hand upon him, whispering greetings to him. 

It was so...ethereal. Even if horses were common animals, seeing one for the first time from your own eyes rather than the pages of a children’s book made all the difference. 

Hyunjin, feeling your blatant staring, glanced back, a groomed brow raised. “What is the unnerving staring for?”

You snapped out of the bubble of your thoughts, instantly souring over his comment. “I was just looking at your horse,” you mumbled. 

“Oh my. You really were not kidding, then.” The other brow then joined its partner. “Are you going to faint if we come across a donkey?”

You gave him a scowl. “Shut up!”

He huffed out a laugh, patting his horse once more before walking around to the entrance, tilting his head up to assess the whole inn. He then looked past at you, still admiring Kkami. “I’m going to go inside for a bit. You stay out here.”

Again, you perked up, furrowing your brows. “Why can’t I come in?”

Gritting his teeth, he said, “Don’t argue! The inn’s full of madmen, and you’ll get scared.”

“You don’t know that!” you cross your arms, shooting him a mean glare. “I can take care of myself!”

“Just stay outside!” he exclaimed, wrenching open the door and storming inside, a loud bell indicating his presence as the door closed behind him.

You scream in anger at the door as if Hyunjin was still there in front of you. Dear God, he didn’t have to be such a pain in the rear!

Stubbornly, you stepped right to the door, opening it just a little bit, sticking your head inside. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the inn.

About a few dozen men were creating disorder, drinking away in big glasses, shouting and hollering, even threatening to throw punches at one another in a rather strange state of mind. Sweet singing was heard over the melody of the piano, a man’s rich voice adding softness to the anarchy. You noticed men stumbling around tables and slurring their words, your curiosity being stained with a little fear. 

Why were these men acting like fools?

You opened the door a little wider, hand on it still as you stepped inside, the other hand holding onto your bundles of hair.

Your eyes settled on Hyunjin squeezing past the crowd, walking up to the counter, where a line of men were already settled, different coloured drinks in their hands. A handsome man, of similar age to your companion, greeted him with a dazzling smile. “Hyunjin!” he welcomed warmly, raising his hands.

You saw your grumpy companion sit down on the high chairs, not particularly returning the smile.. “Chan,” he started, putting his elbows on the counter top. “Any news?”

“The news is that you should rest,” this Chan countered, pouring a dark-red liquid in a glass, sliding it to his friend. “When was the last time you slept properly?”

His concern was waved off, as Hyunjin sipped on his drink, completely unaware of your presence. “When Jisung didn’t run off with my treasures.”

Chan’s smile faded, as he looked frantically around, lowering his voice. “What? Jisung betrayed you?”

Hyunjin kept darting his eyes back to you. “Let’s not dwell too much on it. My main objective is to find him.” 

The bartender parted his mouth, worry in his features. “And...and what will you do when you find him?”

You saw the man’s face darken. “I will make him regret fucking with me.”

A small gasp escaped you, hands coming to your sides. This fury was of another scale entirely, and it made you almost shudder at his need for vengeance.

You were about to take a step further when the door shut completely. 

The bell rang, a lot louder than you had imagined. 

The chaos quietened at the sound, all eyes turning to the door.

Then at you, with all your seventy feet locks, trailing out the shut door.

And if that didn’t ennerve you entirely, then the look on Hyunjin’s face as he slowly got up from his seat, that same cold fury now focused on you, definitely did. 

You nearly yelped out a cry of help.

The melody of the piano continued, and before all the men could come pounce on you, your hands dropped the tumbles of hair, falling at your feet as you grabbed your pan and raised it in warning.

Hyunjin thundered past the others, though, hair bobbing with each step as he stopped right behind the pan you raised in defence.

“I told you to stay outside,” he guttered.

You only craned your neck back, matching his stare. “You do not tell me what to do.”

“I swear to God—”

He was cut off when Chan eased past his customers, stopping beside Hyunjin as he widened his eyes at your arrival.

“Oh my,” he started, a small glance at the pan. “Miss, none of us intend to hurt you, do put the...your weapon down.”

Your eyes did not stray from Hyunjin’s. “One of you does.”

The owner of the tavern raised a brow at his friend. “Well, he won’t hurt you as long as he’s under this roof.”

He then blessed your eyes with a smile. “The name’s Bang Chan,” he said, hand stretched out. You took it, just how the ladies in your books did, and felt the expected kiss on the back. “What may I call you?”

“____,” you offered. 

“Don’t let Hyunjin’s usually foul demeanour dampen your spirits,___,” Chan continued, leading you further into the tavern, the men unable to keep their eyes from you.

“Oh, so he’s always like this?” you mused, the already sour glare grilling into you. 

The man leading you to a seat laughed, a single cheek dimpling. “Don’t you worry about him,___.” he snapped his fingers, the man playing the piano stopping, being replaced with another as he came down the stairs. “Worry about what drink you would like.”

“No!” Hyunjin cut in immediately, daggering the men around him with his gaze. “Do not even think about giving her anything.”

You scoffed louder than usual so the long-haired man would hear. “I would very much like a drink, thank you, Mr. Bang.” 

The manager chuckled at the game of cat and mouse, pulling a seat for you to settle down into. “Chan is perfectly fine, ____.” He then turned to his friend. “Don’t fret too much, I’m only offering some ale.”

As if on cue, another fine, slender man, who was just playing the piano, presented you with a huge mug of the diluted alcohol, a soft smile etched onto his lips. You melted at his demeanour, accepting the object with a thank you. He then glanced at your companion, smile slightly fading.

“I assume you have heard about Jisung?”

Hyunjin cocked his head, a watchful eye still on you as you took a careful sip, eyes widening at the slight, sweet tang to the drink. “Of course. The bastard tried to stab me.”

“Dear God,” was his answer. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” The feline gaze was more prominent, and you did not know why you began to drink the ale a little faster. “I escaped death...perhaps by witchcraft.”

You held in the urge to roll your eyes. 

Hyunjin then fully focused his attention upon the musician. “Wait, Seungmin, how did you know of this?”

“Jisung came to the inn.” 

Chan looked to his coworker. “I did not see him arrive.”

Seungmin shook his head, you right in the middle of these men as you finished your first mug. Another sweet customer poured you some more from his serving, and you clinked your drink with his, continuing to watch. “You were tending to Kkami. It was very quick, he came and went.”

“What did he tell you?” Hyunjin demanded. 

“Well, firstly he told me you and him had gone your separate ways.” Seungmin propped a finger of his chin, thinking some more. “Which made me a little sceptical, since both of you are joined at the hip. Anyway, he said you gave him whatever you both had picked up on your adventures, and that he was going to Corona and sell them off.”

A curse was emitted over this information. You wanted to know why that was such a problem, but in reality all you wanted was more ale. “Chan?” You called, holding out the mug. The owner of the inn immediately took care of your request, filling the mug to the brim and setting it upon the wooden table. 

“That is quite enough,” Hyunjin declared, trying to pry the drink from you when you slapped his hand away, shooting him with what you thought was a terrifying glare. 

In reality, the men around him began to laugh at your attempt of intimidation, which looked more like a child pouting over a scolding. Your companion tried again to take the mug away but this time you hugged the drink as tightly as you could, some of the contents spilling lightly onto your top. 

“I swear—” he muttered, but then angrily shook his head, dismissing you entirely.  “Seungmin, do you know when he plans to go to Corona?”

The said-man furrowed his brows in thought. “He did seem in a bit of a rush. I reckon he has already found buyers and is riding to the city as we speak.”

Hyunjin poked his tongue out under his cheek, clearly not content with this new information. Chan, sensing his discomfort, put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much,” he reassured him. 

“I must leave for the capital now,” the younger said, and the other knitted his brows in irritancy.

“But you just arrived!”

“I can’t let Jisung get away with this,” Hyunjin muttered, and suddenly the words of his departure truly hit you.

“NO!”

All the men flinched at you shrill call, the one you knew the most sending you his typical bitter glare. “You, firstly,” he drawled, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “Need to stop drinking!”

“But I’ve only had two mugs!” you exclaimed. “And it only tastes like water!”

“It’s three, actually,” he corrected, propping both hands on his hips. “And I do not want some whiny, drunk witch while I travel.”

“Hyunjin!” Chan scolded, instantly at your side. “Why are you calling the poor girl a witch?”

“Mr. Chan,” you recited, as if you were a bard about to sing poetry, “This insufferable man has been abusing me with this term all day!”

A gasp escaped the owner of the bar, who then frowned at the man accused. “You monster!”

“Dear God,” he mumbled, ready to leave the inn then and there. It was a shame that he owed you a favour, or else he would have abandoned you in the forest.

Hwang Hyunjin did not like doing favours for others. Even if they derived from pretty young ladies with magical hair. 

A scowl marred his full lips at the strange thought. 

“I am not leaving,” you declared, dragging him down to reality as you took a hefty gulp of your ale. You smacked the cup down, eyes never leaving his. “And you are going to stay with me till I am done.”

That’ll show him. You were extremely confident that he would listen, now that you told him off. Your brain, now a little fuzzy, praised you for standing your ground, along with a smiling Chan and Seungmin. Wait, did Chan have a twin? He did not before, so why was there two of him before you?

“Oh, hurry up, then!” The man roared, and you flinched from his tone before the words settled in. That then caused you to harbour a complacent smile upon your face, and when he caught sight of it he let out a groan. “And for God’s sake, get me something to drink!”

Seungmin obliged, chuckling at his friend’s tantrum, and Chan only ruffled his half-ponytail, messing it up slightly. “That’s the spirit, Hyunjin,” he said. “Learn to relax.” 

“How can I relax when my ex-partner is about to sell off everything we made together?”

“Even Jisung would need his rest,” the elder countered, sitting the younger down onto the seat opposite yours, which looked a little less sharp even with your blinking. Were these the consequences of drinking? Were there consequences for drinking?

Well, you did not seem to care. Not when it tasted so divine. 

“If I do not catch the bastard because of this wit-ow!” he was interrupted by a pinch of his gut, done by Chan over his lack of manners. “I mean girl!

“If this girl—” he knifed you with a look, which you returned with a feline grin, as you drank some more. “—is the reason I do not catch Jisung, I will willingly kill her in his place.”

“Whatever you say!” you hollered much too loud, earning a deep snarl from the man as Seungmin curved through the customers and brought more drinks, propping his friend’s drink before him. 

Hyunjin wrapped his fingers around the black handle, and on cue, you raised your own mug. 

“To catching whoever annoyed pony boy this time!” you declared in a mighty roar.

Laughter rang from all around the tavern, yet the man you targeted only grumbled, awkwardly clutching tufts of his locks before taking a swig of his drink. 

Alcohol was shared throughout the evening, an airy and boisterous atmosphere lingering in the candle-lit room, orchestrated by you as you told your dream of seeing the famous fireworks of Corona. You informed them through ale-tainted words of their importance for you, as they happened on your birthday without fail every year, and when the men around you heard they all hooted an early happy birthday to you, all toasting to you and your contentment. 

At one point, at what you thought was your fifth glass, you scrambled on top of the table, to Hyunjin’s absolute horror, and you requested another toast.

“To people like me and you!” you exclaimed to the tavern, and everyone cheered so loudly that you thought your ears would lose its purpose. 

You then had the brilliant idea to try and jump down from the table - why, you were ready to take the leap when you heard a frightened yelp. Looking down, blinking hard to differentiate one man from another, you saw Hyunjin shooting up from his seat, arms reaching out.

With your mouth parted you felt his long, slender hands grip each side of your waist, and a small gasp escaped you as you as he lifted you in his arms, setting you down upon the tavern stone as quickly as he picked you up. His hands nearly left their place on you when you looked into his eyes, yours so wide at what he did he reflected your action.

Even in the chaos of the tavern around you, you found slight peace within his stone-cold eyes.

The tranquility was short-lived, when he shook his head, hands straying as they gripped the empty mug, turning to Chan, who was downing his own third beer of the night. “I’m going to take my leave now,” he said. 

“But it is past dusk!” The owner stood his ground, gathering all the empty mugs. “I cannot have you trotting about in this forest.

“And look—” he pointed to you, who was asking around for yet another mug-full of ale, being guiltily refused by the men surrounding you. “—she is in no state to travel. You both need rest.”

“We are fine,” Hyunjin insisted. “I will take care of the damned witch.”

“Stop it,” Chan warned, setting the objects upon the counter. “Just because she has hair which could wrap around our inn ten times, doesn’t mean she’s a witch.”

“Pony boyyy!”

Grimacing, Hyunjin turned to catch you, offering him a lop-sided smile as you stumbled up to him. “Ponyboy, serve me some ale!”

“Oh my God,” he muttered, looking you over, assessing your rather ridiculous state. “____, we are leaving.”

“Leaving?!” You repeated one horror. “But we cannot leave now!”

“That is what I am saying too!” Chan chimed in. 

Hyunjin did not acknowledge his friend’s comment, though. Only your refusal, as he propped his hands on his hips, leaning into you with brows furrowed. 

“___,” he whispered, and, oh, why was your breath abandoning you? “You come with me, or I can easily leave you here. You carry on drinking, hmm?”

Well, there it was. Of course, all you wanted to do at the time was drink till only the Den’s ale ran through your veins, but in reality, you knew your situation. The fireworks were mere days away, and although you would have gladly asked any of the others to accompany you to spare the agitation of this long-haired man, you could not dump yourself onto his friends. At least the former owed you a favour.

You had to see the fireworks. And only Hwang Hyunjin could show you in time.

“Fine,” you mumbled, but Hyunjin raised a hand to his ear, mocking a confused expression. 

“Wait, I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

“Damn you, I said fine!” you exclaimed right into his ear, making him flinch. “I’m coming with you!” 

His amusement had not faded entirely, though, as a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips. He turned to Bang Chan, who already had his arms held out. “You better not die,” he mused, and the long-haired man only scoffed before hugging his dear friend. 

Seungmin, then playing on the piano, waved his hand in goodbye, sending a flying kiss Hyunjin’s way, smiling adorably when the latter rolled his eyes. 

Chan also kissed your hand in respect, holding onto to it as you tried to steady yourself. “Farewell, ____,” he said with a radiant smile. “We will try and find you both in the capital if we can find the time.”

“Thank you for the drinks, Mr. Chan!” you yelled with too much enthusiasm, earning a chuckle from the man. “I wish I could repay you, but-”

“There is no need,” he countered kindly, waving off your concern. “Any friend of Hyunjin’s is a friend of mine.”

Scrunching your nose at the thought, you found the said-man already at the door, calling for you to hurry up or else he’ll dump you here and go alone. Sticking your tongue out, you bid your remaining farewells, waving to Seungmin before whirling, the whole tavern chanting goodbye to you as you followed, rather clumsily, Hyunjin out of The Wolf’s Den.

The cool, night air kissed your face as you stepped out into the forest, blinking excessively to familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Soft neighing was heard beside you, and you turned to the sound, finding Hyunjin going through his satchel, now strapped upon Kkami. The boy spared a glance towards you before saying, “Let’s get going.”

You looked at the horse, and suddenly you realised how big the animal really was. You feared even trying to slide your foot in the stirrup, knowing you would fall flat on your rear. 

Hyunjin, noticing your uncertainty, huffed out a malicious chuckle. “Oh, so now the bold little witch is scared, now? Of riding a horse?”

“The pan is right beside me,” you warned, wishing your glare would have intimidated the man who teased you. In reality, it only made him laugh some more. “And you already know I’ve never seen a horse in real life, let alone ride one.”

The man watched you rather pityingly, stroking Kkami’s mane before sighing. “Come here, then,” he started, patting the saddle. 

You tilted your head, confused. “For what?” You scowled at him, lower lip jutting out. “I am not going anywhere near you.”

“Well then, I hope you enjoy walking in forests at midnight,” he said, holding onto the reins as he propped one foot atop the stirrup. “All alone.”

He was about to hoist himself upon his horse when you groaned out, running to him, hair trailing after you. “Fine! Help me get up the bloody animal!”

Shaking his head, he descended upon the grass before you walked right up to Kkami, a little too big for your liking. He inhaled, a little too loudly, and then his hands gripped your waist, hoisting you up. 

You nearly yelped at the contact but remembered to grip onto the reins, propping one leg over the other. Your dress hitched a little higher with the distance, and you felt the eyes of your companion upon the exposed skin for barely a second before he grasped the pommel of his saddle, and climbed atop the horse. 

It was then you noticed the sheer closeness of him, right behind you, even more so when he leaned forward, taking the reins from you, his head hovering near yours. If you were not influenced by alcohol, you would have screamed at him for daring to approach you, but you were influenced, enough for a strange, sensational feeling to hit your gut. You tried your best to ignore it as you swiped the air with your raised pan, holding onto your bundles of hair.

“To the Kingdom, Pony boy!”

“Oh, be quiet!” Was his answer before snapping the reins, Kkami instantly obliging.

You instantly lurched back at the sheer force of the horse’s galloping, a shuddering breath whooshing out of you as you collided with Hyunjin’s chest. The animal picked up the pace immediately and swept through the vast expanse of the forest, the light of the moon guiding your way. You held onto the pommel of the saddle, occasionally letting yourself lean against the man behind you. If he noticed you closing the distance, he did not say anything of it.

Soon, the ball of light which accompanied you on your journey was halfway through its own, indicating that midnight had long passed. Fatigue crept up your mind, but with every bounce of the horse had you perking up, irritation marring your features.

“Hyunjiiin,” you whined, watching trees upon trees sweeping past you. “Can we rest already?”

You rather felt more than heard his sigh. “We need to get to the capital.” He snapped the reins, urging Kkami to gallop faster. “It’s already a two-day journey, we need to be as fast as possible.”

This was not acceptable in your mind. Holding onto your hair, you looked over your shoulder, catching your guide watching his path ahead. “But Hyunjin, I am tired!”

“That sounds more like a personal problem to me, ____,” he only said, raising a brow at you. The pathways became thinner, branches barely missing your heads. 

“Hyunjiiiiin!”

“What?!” he demanded, turning a right, past the signs. “Stop vexing me, already!”

“Pony boy, I will jump off Kkami if you don’t listen to me!” You warned, already sliding slightly off the saddle. With slight concern you realised that the horse was riding a little too fast for your drunken liking.

“Oh, I dare you to,” the man growled in your ear, already so irritated with your constant rambling. You, on the other hand, found no fear from his threat, only wishing he had not dared you to do something so risky.

Because now, you were going to do just that.

A thunderous shout escaped Hyunjin as you swiped your left leg over, sitting sideways upon the horse and ready to jump off and to your very possible death. With one hand guiding the reins his other immediately stopped you, wrapping around your stomach and pulling you straight against his chests.

“What in fine heavens are you doing?!” The man screamed in anger, causing you to wince. Kkami slowed with the pull of the reins. 

You looked up at him, wide eyes with confusion. “Why, what you dared me to!” You answered, as if it was a reasonable action to commit.

Hyunjin did not seem to agree with you on this. “You...you—”

“If you do not stop over, Pony Boy, I will jump once again!” you warned him, already wanting to squirm out of his grip if the damned man was not so strong.

You then flinched when an enraged cry escaped Hyunjin, pulling harshly on KKami’s reins. On command, the horse began to slow its galloping, and when your companion searched for a place to stay he spotted a little opening within the trees, a plain, grassy area among the oaks and bushes. Hyunjin, leading the group into this space, sighed in relief when he saw a little pond among the greenery, and stopped his horse before the calm waters.

The man, swinging his leg carefully behind you, got off the horse, and you waited for him to bring you down, only for him to create distance between you two as he propped his satchel before a large oak tree.

“Ponyboyyy,” you called, but he only looked back, knifing you with a glare. 

“Oh, so now you’re afraid to get off the horse?” he taunted, fisted hands upon his hips. “What about ten bloody minutes ago when you were ready to jump to your death?”

“I was a different person then.”

“No!” he countered right away, practically ripping out an apple from his bag. “No, you are still the same, drunk, witch who keeps putting a giant dump on my plans!”

You had the audacity to giggle. “I did not take any dumps on your plan, silly! In fact, was it not me who saved you?”

“Oh, be quiet!” he only demanded, making you laugh a little uncontrollably. 

“Will you help me down, already?” you sang out, only to irritate your companion some more. “Or will I have to risk breaking my legs?”

The prolonged silence had you nearly sliding off the horse when you heard his heavy footsteps, harsh grumbling sounding from the trees until Hyunjin advanced to where you sat, dropping your locks of hair upon the ground. Strong hands held onto your waist, and you grabbed onto his shoulders quicker than you thought, clinging onto him as he descended you from Kkami, neighing from the lack of passengers.

His hands left your sides instantly, and you did not know why you missed their presence. Perhaps the alcohol messed with your mind a little too much.

You watched as Hyunjin began to collect some wood, a few thick branches from the trees and bushes scattered around the grasslands. Hair trailing behind, you walked to where he dumped the wood beside the pond, settling yourself with your satchel strapped to you.

Your eyes lingered on him still when he sat down beside you, maintaining a distance as he brought out his flint and steel. Creating fiction, he swiped against the materials until a spark was ignited, and quickly he brought it near the wood until the spark caught on. The man began to blow softly as the fire expanded, catching onto every twig and branch until it spread to the very ends of the wood, illuminating the empty expanse. 

Hyunjin brought out a few edibles, while you hugged yourself a little tighter, the past-midnight air powering over the fire. He looked over the strips of meat, and slid his eyes to your satchel.

“Pass me your pan.”

You squint your eyes at him. “And why do you want my pan?”

The man cocked his head, locks of raven hair spilling over his shoulder. “Why would I want a frying pan, ____?” 

“Don’t be smart with me!” You chanted, opening up your satchel, the black utensil in display. 

“Just give me the damned thing,” he ordered, holding out a hand. You, on the other hand, curled a smile upon your lips as you brought it out, refusing to give him the pan.

“What is the magic word?” You asked, all sweet and sugary.

Hyunjin’s brows dipped in annoyance. “Now!”

“Wrong!” You sang out, swinging the pan in your hand. The gesture seemed to tick the man off even more. “Guess again.”

“____!” He snapped, and you let out a cackle at his reaction. “I am extremely tired and hungry, so stop toying with me and hand me the bloody frying pan.”

“Fine!” You responded, and did not realise the full intensity of you whacking the pan to him till it hit Hyunjin right in the face.

A pained groan escaped him as he dropped his meat, hand instantly rushing to his face to cover the scratch marring his cheek. You let out a shocked gasp, eyes instantly looking at his covered face.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you began, hands reaching to his wrists, but he turned away from you, hissing. 

“Damn it,” he cursed, pulling away slightly, and with slight distress saw an angry cut across his cheek. “Are you crazy?”

“Hyunjin, I’m so, so, so sorry, please—” you were about to beg for forgiveness when you had an idea. 

“Oh yes!” you exclaimed, which was not received well with the injured beside you. You ignored his grumbling, and grabbed his wrist. “Wait, Ponyboy! Stop covering your face!”

“Stop calling me Ponyboy!” he retorted, but that was not important when you knew how to fix your little mistake. 

You brought his hands from his face, and you blinked several times to notice the slash of the rusty pan. “Wait, stay still—”

“What are you trying to do?” he demanded, trying to pry your hands off but then you impaled him with your stare. 

“Ponyboy, let me help.”

He matched your glower. “What are you going to do, huh? Save me again?”

You did not answer him, separating a small section of your hair as you wrapped it lightly around your finger. You then reached that hand out, bracing yourself for the touch.

The first caress of your fingers against Hyunjin’s cheek had him completely freezing his complaints. 

Noticing, you were careful — so, so careful, when you relished the softness of his skin. It was incredibly unfair; had this man not travelled places, gotten himself in filthy situations, only for his skin to be flawless? You knitted your brows at this detail.

“I’m going to sing, now, okay?” you murmured to him. “Do not be scared over what happens.”

“Oh, because something magical is going to happen, no?” he taunted, eyes darting between you and you hair-engulfed fingers. 

You only smiled at his ignorance before you closed your eyes. 

Wait, how did the song go again? 

Oh yes. I remember. Stupid ale. I’m never drinking again.

You parted your mouth and began to sing.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

Hyunjin stopped breathing.

“Let your power shine.

Make the clock reverse.

Bring back what once, was mine.”

Hwang Hyunjin stopped breathing, ceased completely because the moment the words fluttered from your mouth, the moment your hair began to glow all over, like molten lava slowly spreading over a volcano, he did not know how to function.  

You continued to sing, distinctly aware of his eerie stillness as the hair, brushing against his cheek, performed its healing on the cut, forming more flesh from the damaged skin and repairing itself.

“Heal what has been hurt.

Change the Fate’s design.”

The verses rolled off your tongue, never opening your eyes as your fingers caressed his skin, wonderfully warm underneath you as additional warmth from your hair radiated all around the opening. The fire seemed so insignificant now, when you possessed all the light in the world, threaded within the locks of your hair.

And Hyunjin only watched, eyes starstruck over your transformation.

“Save what has been lost.

Bring back what once was mine…”

At last, you opened your eyes, meeting with the sole man in the forest. His awe-filed gaze beheld you, in all your celestial glory, and more warmth radiated from you, specifically from your cheeks. 

You nearly forgot to end the healing poem.

“What once was...mine.”

The glow lingered when you closed your mouth. Your fingers lingered along his cheek.

His eyes, too, lingered upon yours. Almost unable to stray. 

Even when his hesitant hand raised to your fingers, feeling the cut on his skin - now gone, courtesy of your witchcraft.

No. Not witchcraft. Magic.

“I…” he tried to say, but his words were paused, crippled under your fantastical abilities. “It...it is healed.”

You felt your hair’s light begin to dim. “I do not lie, Ponyboy.”

His gaze darted all over your face, one glance at your parted lips and felt another sense of warmth heating his face. “Hmm. I guess not.”

Something within you wished he would lean a little closer, share some of the heat which you were losing the longer you stayed silent. You dared not take the step, despite your entire mind begging you to stop being a coward. 

Come on, Ponyboy. Do not fear like I do.

Perhaps it was only wishful thinking. 

For the man clasped your fingers, and brought them down from his face, the hair curled around loosening. His hand, letting yours go, strayed to his side, where the damned frying pan lay discarded. 

Hyunjin did not feel much like cooking anymore. 

“We should sleep,” he said, leaning against the tree trunk. “There is still a day’s journey left for Corona.”

You only nodded, rounding up your locks and attempted to create a make-shift bed from the volume. He watched you work, shivering slightly from the icy night air, despite the fire still burning.

When finished, you dusted your dress, laying down upon the hair-bed, facing Hyunjin’s left, the side of his face darkened by the direction of the moonlight. He spread his leg before him, sighing out, and crossed his arms, closing his eyes. 

Even then, he heard your teeth chattering.

Of course, he could always ignore it. It was not like him to care for the wellbeing of others, especially those who managed to piss him off every time they opened their mouth.

He glanced at you.

There you were, knees raised to your chest, curled up in a little ball with your masses of hair, engulfing you almost completely. Even with your magical advantages you trembled under the midnight chill, cursing nature for being too, literally, cold. 

Hyunjin cursed too, but himself, when he took off his turquoise vest, sliding it off his arms, and stretched towards you. 

It was your turn to still under another’s presence, as the leather attire settled on you like a blanket, instantly warming you under the shade of the oak trees. You let out a soft hum at the heat, and the man widened his eyes at the reaction. He found it annoyingly endearing.

“Thank you, Ponyboy,” you murmured to him, a lazy gaze on him. 

He did not say anything in return. Only went back to his original position, fingers pinching his hair grip, sliding it out as his locks escaped from the tie, cascading his shoulders as he smoothed them down. He then sat down, leaning against the tree, spreading a leg before him.

A comfortable silence settled upon the both of you, save for the leaves rustling from the breeze and the sound of crickets scattered around the forest. You closed your eyes, fatigue creeping over you, but you held on to your conscious, a few unanswered questions in mind. 

“Hey, Ponyboy?”

You heard, rather than see, the man sigh.

“Hmm?”

Keeping an eye closed, you observed his lack of movement, a hand upon his raised knee. “Why did you agree to letting me come with you?”

A soft scoff emitted from him. “Because you would have knocked me out with that damned frying pan if I said no.”

“No I would not!” you argued, but when he shifted his eyes to you in disbelief, you found yourself doubting your own words. “Well, well...you would have defended yourself just fine!”

“Whatever you say,” he said, facing ahead once more. 

The quiet was blanketed upon the both of you once more, yet you still looked at him. Dear God, nature was truly unjust for making him so ethereal. 

“Is there something else you wish to ask me, witch?”

You pouted at the name. “Do not call me that.”

“And you can keep calling me Ponyboy?”

The mention of the endearment had you giggling once again. “And what about it,” you mused, smirking,”Ponyboy?”

You smiled harder when Hyunjin tutted. “You are truly...impossible!”

A laugh escaped you, you shifting in your bed of hair. You could not help biting your cheek, as you wished to say one more thing to your companion, the man who had closed his eyes, ready to sleep.

“I can feel you looking at me,” he said, making you blink away the slight daze you were in. 

You bit your lip before parting your mouth. “I…” you brought his vest closer to yourself. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

Hyunjin opened his eyes.

“For what?”

“You know…” you ran a hand over his turquoise vest. “This. The inn...letting me come with you in general.” He was about to open his mouth to object, but you stopped him. “No, shush! You did not have to.”

He rested his stare upon you, locking his hands over his knee. “You saved me from death, ____. It is the least I can do.”

“Well,” you murmured. “Thank you anyway. For putting up with me.” you let out a huff. “Drunk and sober.”

A small chuckle emitted from him, raking his locks back. “I am never letting you drink again.”

“I bet.” you could not help the slight burning of your cheeks. “I must have been such a bane to your existence this entire time. I would not have been surprised if you left me at that inn.”

There was a pause after, and you figured he was tired of talking so you closed your eyes, ready to lose yourself to temporary oblivion. 

Then you heard his whisper. 

“I would never do that, ____.”

You dared not look at him. God, you could feel him looking at you, but you did not dare, for you feared what would happen if you matched your stare. 

So you kept your eyes close, the image of a certain long-haired man lingering in your mind as you slept.

And the certain long-haired man you thought of, slumped against his tree, only watched you drift away to another world, wondering whether you truly were the bane of his existence.

The answer he received, as he closed his own eyes, scared him.

For no matter how drunk, how tenacious you might be, he would still not have abandoned you at the inn.

He could not have abandoned you at the inn. Anywhere, for that matter.

It was that rather strange thought, and his even stranger heart rate, which finally had him joining you in slumber.

THE TWO OF YOU TRAVELLED FOR ANOTHER TWO DAYS BEFORE YOU REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.

By that time you had fully recovered from your drunken state, and went through with the dire consequences that brought with it. Of course, Hyunjin made sure to mock you as your head hurt throughout the journey, and only ceased when you whipped out the frying pan, promising to hit him properly this time. 

You both were actually arguing over the last slice of cheese when you looked towards the path, and spotted the giant, cream-coloured turrets, shooting up in the sky, peeking out from the trees. You let out a scream then, making Hyunjin nearly drop the cheese, and you took the reins from the boy as Kkami galloped faster towards the kingdom. 

“Slow down, ____!”

But you did not listen to him, your hair about to fall from the horse had your companion not held onto the masses, and your blood began to thrum under your skin when the lining of the trees broke.

An excited scream lurched out of you.

A baby pink bridge stretched beyond your vision, guiding you to the entrance of the kingdom. It was plated in solid gold, and several people walked up and down, smiling politely at you as you stopped Kkami before the start. The entire castle was in full view, despite the length of the bridge, and you could barely contain the thrill which drummed in your veins.

“Hyunjin, do you see this?” 

He did not share your raging enthusiasm. “Just carry on riding, witch!”

You stuck your tongue out to him before you snapped the reins, Kkami starting off on the bridge. You heard the waves lap against the stone, the clear blue water twinkling in the sun, and the citizens watched you rush past in mild surprise, not expecting someone to be this excited for entering the capital.

But of course you were excited. Especially when you arrived at the place you’ve been dreaming to see on your birthday.

“____, you heathen, slow down or you’ll get us killed!” Hyunjin shouted over the rapid clicking of the horseshoes over the stone. 

You only obliged when you passed the entrance, guards nodding, and slowed Kkami’s gallop to a mild trotting around the streets. There was buzzing all around, thatched houses displaying colourful banners, depicting the fireworks which were to occur that evening, and many people seemed to have dressed up, enjoying each other’s company, children running around with kites and ribbons, playing and simply having fun.

It made you smile a little, seeing everyone in such harmony. You hoped you would be able to join in.

Hyunjin jumped off the horse, to your surprise, dusting himself off. “Off,” he ordered, hands out, and you complied, wrapping your arms around his neck as he brought you down, bare feet touching the cobblestone. Your hair tumbled down from the saddle, and a few people nearby watched in awe at your neverending locks. 

“Why are we getting off?” you asked, picking up as much of your hair as you could. 

Hyunjin grabbed onto the ends which you could not carry, one hand guiding Kkami along with him. “The fireworks are still hours away.” He began to walk, leading you deeper into the streets of Corona. “So I’m going to use this time to search for the whereabouts of someone.”

“Oh, is this the whole Jisung business?” your eyes darted everywhere, each flash of colour, of each depiction, drawing, painting of the fireworks. 

You saw the man visibly stiffen. “Yes,” he muttered, fingers tightening on the reins. “I know a few friends in the city who might know where he went.” 

“Show me the way, then!” you declared, returning each awe-filled smile one sent you. “If you have more friends like Mr. Chan and Seungmin then I want to meet them!”

Clicking his tongue, he said, “If you’re going to end up drunk with them I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’re just jealous that your friends like me more than you,” you mused.

“You keep thinking that,” he only said dryly, though he feared that might be true. You had a habit of creating an unforgettable impression of yourself to others. 

You certainly left that impression on the poor man who walked oh so carefully beside you.

Another turn of a street and you were met with various shops, the scent of various savories and sugary desserts tempting your nose, and your eyes being bombarded with all the goods from around the country. You demanded Hyunjin to provide you with some pastries, but he only glared in rejection, moving on from the stalls. 

The man then stopped before a flower shop, dozens of different forms scattered around the opening. Stepping aside what nature has to offer, Hyunjin went inside, only to be met with more flowers.

“Felix?!” 

“Who is that?” you asked, but your question was answered when a small, blond haired man stepped out from the back door, holding a bouquet of roses in his little hands. He adorned a peach-coloured shirt and black trousers, leather shoes thudding as he walked inside the shop.

This man smiled brightly at seeing your companion. “Oh, afternoon, Hyunjin!” he greeted. “I’m surprised to see you here..”

“I was not going to come to Corona so early, as well, but something has come up.” He looked around, tying Kkami’s reins onto the wooden column, holding up the shop sign. “Say, has Jisung met you in the past two days?”

Felix furrowed his brows in thought, sliding the roses in an intricately decorated vase. “No, actually,” he admitted. “I haven’t seen him in about two months.”

“Damn it,” Hyunjin seethed, playing with a stray lock. “Is Jeongin here?”

“He’s outside, but he’ll be back any moment.” Felix then looked past you and your companion, and parted his mouth. “Ah, here we go!”

You turned around, and instantly softened at the beautiful boy which skipped into the flower shop, black curls bouncing along his step as he held bags, stained slightly with grease. “Felix, look!” He proclaimed, holding his possessions out and catching a glimpse of all the sugary goodness Hyunjin refused to buy you. “Lunch!”

The said-man rolled his eyes, dusting his hands. “You are crazy if you think I’m going to let you eat all of those pastries for lunch.”

“Oh, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!” Jeongin whined, propping the bags on the counter. He widened his grin at seeing the long-haired man. “Hyunjin!” 

“Hey, buddy,” you heard him say, while he brought out a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Tell me you’re still as troublesome for Felix as before.”

“I could never let you down,” Jeongin drawled, earning a laugh from his elder.

He then turned to you, and his mischievous demeanour dissolved into amazement. “Oh my, miss, your hair!” His eyes skimmed over the locks, astonishment growing. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

“It can be a nightmare,” you confessed, dropping the masses of hair from your arms. “Carrying it, at least.”

Jeongin studied your phenomenon a little longer. “Miss, may I offer you assistance, then?”

You raised a curious brow. “And what would that be?”

“Well, if it can be bothersome,” he started, locking his hands behind his back, a little shy. “How about I braid it for you?”

“You…” your eyes widened, your fingers threading through your hair. “Can you do it?”

The young boy looked to Hyunjin, who very much doubted him. “I mean, you can go about your business, and until then I can take some trouble away from the lady.”

“Jeongin,” Felix warned. “Don’t go asking things like that!” He turned his eyes towards you, apologetic.  “I’m deeply sorry, my lady, but this boy is still learning to hold his tongue.”

“No, no, it’s alright, Mr. Felix,” you reassured him, facing Hyunjin as he, too, pondered over this offer. 

The long-haired man eyed the youngest a little warily. “I will be nearby, so I guess ____ can stay.” he then knitted his brows. “If I hear that you caused any inconvenience to her—”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Hyunjin, we’ll be fine!” Jeongin sent you a dazzling grin, bowing. “I will be on my best behaviour.”

Felix propped a little hand to his hip. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Hyunjin slid his eyes to you, parting his mouth. “You’ll be okay, right?”

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine!” Raising your hands, you turned the man around, pushing him out of the flower shop. “Go and find that Jisung man of yours and let me enjoy my birthday!”

“Alright, alright!” he looked over his shoulders. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Don’t miss me too much, Ponyboy!” you simpered, to which the man only rolled his eyes, leaving your sight as he turned to another corner.

You then turned to the two boys, smiling kindly. “In advance, I apologise if I annoy you with my rambling.”

Laughing, Felix gathered up a pot of orange tulips, turning towards the back door. “Ah, don’t be sorry, Miss ____, consider us good friends! I’ll be going in and out to check up on lunch but Jeongin will be here.”

“I won’t bore you, promise!” the younger exclaimed. “I have many good stories of Hyunjin!”

“Now that,” you get out as you laugh, “Is something I wish to hear.”

“Only for you, Miss ____,” Jeongin mused, gesturing towards a stool sat beside the counter. “You can sit here while I braid your hair. I don’t want you getting tired.”

You thanked him, walking over and settling yourself upon the cushioned seat. “If you can tie up all this mess, then I owe you a huge favour.”

The boy stepped towards your back, assessing how he was going to start this difficult process. Making an approving noise, he then grabbed the bags he first held when he came inside, bringing out a sugared doughnut and holding it out. “Snack?”

Seeing the treat had you yelling in joy. “Of course!” you took the doughnut from him, immediately digging in. “Thank you, Mr. Jeongin!”

“Please, Miss ____, just call me Jeongin,” he offered, separating your locks into three sections, splitting them downwards and creating distance between them on the floor. “I feel much too old when you call me that.”

“As long as you call me only ____,” you said as you ate, watching the busy street. You then felt a faint tightness on your scalp, and sensed the boy’s fingers commencing their task.

As Jeongin worked on braiding your hair, you slowly depleted his sweets, striking up conversations of the Kingdom, the shop and the people who dwelled here. You learned a great deal from his words, describing you the constant merriment within the walls throughout the year, yet today was the most important day for Corona - the fireworks celebrating the ascension of the King and Queen who lived in the castle. 

The young boy also explained his relation to your grumpy companion, explaining that their acquaintance originated from childhood, when Hyunjin would fight off any bullies which tried to pick on him, yet would be the first to tease him whenever he had the chance. They, along with Felix and others, all grew up together, but Hyunjin had been the first to adventure out of Corona along with Jisung, who, too, was a childhood friend.

It was welcoming, hearing the humble beginnings of Hwang Hyunjin. A true shame he turned out to be a grouchy and annoying bastard. 

You cocked your head, reassessing that statement. Well, he was not a bastard. That was a much too harsh a word to describe him. In truth, you wished you still harboured the feelings you first inhibited when you met him. 

In truth, you found yourself warming up to him. 

I would never do that, ____.

That night, beside the moonlit pond, when he declared in a quiet murmur that he would never abandon you, despite your irritable demeanour. It was terrifying, because it was all you could think about. Although it had not even been a week since you healed him in the woods, here you were, pondering over him as if you had been all your life. 

This only added to your fear. 

“Isn’t that so, ____?”

You perked up at Jeongin’s question, looking over your shoulder to see him already so far ahead in his task. The plait, each third huge and reducing the original length of your hair. You observed with further fascination that the boy had created another network of braiding, woven into the bigger thirds, and you let out a sigh of wonder, thankful for your miracle for the first time. “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t listen.”

“Oh, I was just saying how Hyunjin should have stayed in the Kingdom, but he left to do whatever he did with Jisung.”

You brought your feet upon the railings of your stool. “Jeongin, what does Hyunjin actually do?” You asked, curiosity fresh on your tongue. 

“Apart from being a pain in the rear?” A laugh escaped you, and Jeongin continued braiding, nearly finished. “Well, all I know is that he’s involved in a lot of trading circles. Every week I used to see him bringing something new from foreign lands.”

“So a true adventurer, then?” 

Jeongin propped a third into another. “In a sense.”

After a half-hour Felix joined the two of you, mitten-covered hands holding a tray of hot bread as he set it on the countertop. He admired his friend’s artistry as well, taking off the gloves and watching for a little while as Jeongin was on the last parts of your hair. 

He then spoke. “I have an idea.”

The younger kept working as he said, “Go on.”

Stepping past you so he faced you, Felix propped a finger over his chin. “Hmm...yes…”

You gave him a confused look. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

But he hurried out of the shop, grabbing different variations of small flowers, all ranging from soft, pastelled colours, and walked over to you again.

“May I?” He asked, and you nodded, understanding what he was about to do. 

As you thought, the man picked out a blue forget-me-not, and planted it within the folds of your hair.

“Hmm,” he only got out, continuing this as he scattered more flowers in your locks, adding colour as he then moved past you, going behind as the flowers now littered the back of your head, lining against the plaits. 

“Felix, this will take you forever!” You said, worried that you may waste their time.

“No it won’t, Miss ____,” he waved off your concern, carrying on the task as if it would not take him a whole day to complete. “We want your hair looking immaculate for tonight. Especially if it’s your birthday today!”

You smiled at the kindness, initiating further conversation with Hyunjin’s friends as they kept you entertained throughout the afternoon. It was the first time meeting them, and already you wished to see them often. Secretly, you envied your companion for having such sincere friends.

You, on the other hand, were never given the chance to create such special bonds.

It was another hour before you heard a satisfied noise escape the youngest, and you turned, catching a victorious grin on his face. 

“It’s done, ____!”

On cue, you looked down, and gasped.

The finished braid was a masterpiece: all the networks of plaits were worked intricately into the original big three, and at the end were tied by a band of daisies, knotted so tightly there was hardly room for the locks to be set free. Felix tucked in the last of the flowers, and this added feature enhanced your hair even more, like a little garden of your own growing in your locks. The whole result had you returning their smiles. 

“Oh my God, Felix, Jeongin!” you started, swivelling on your stool, braid following. “It's exquisite!”

The two mocked a bow at you, receiving your applause with grace. “It was our pleasure, ____,” the elder said, a toothy grin on display. “I know I like having flowers in my hair.”

“Now you’ll be the talk of the town,” Jeongin drawled, which had you hesitantly laughing. The younger’s eyes then perked up past you. “Oh, look, just in time!”

You turned in your seat.

Stilled at seeing Hwang Hyunjin catching sight of you. Your new hairstyle.

His eyes lit up at the change. 

He saw the huge plait, and the flowers which littered in your hair, and thought he saw paradise inhabiting earth. He then saw your face accompanying this hair, and knew paradise will be staying for a while. Taking in the decoration, the intricate consideration of detail within your locks, had you elevated in every single way. 

By God, he found you so beautiful.

Jeongin raised a brow over Hyunjin’s dumbfounded reaction. “Are you not going to say anything?”

But the man was silent, hands on his satchel tightening. He then saw an empty expanse in your hair, just above your ear, and had a little idea.

Spotting his favourite flower, he picked it up from the stash outside the shop, and slowly walked towards you, your eyes never leaving his.

When he stopped before you, he raised the white rose, sliding the small stem within your locks. It found home above your ear, and the man nearly swooned at how perfectly it suited you.

He curled his lips at the sight of you. “You look...ethereal.”

You cursed at the hairs at the back of your neck, which stood erect at the soft praise. “Thank you, Ponyboy.”

Jeongin let out a snort, in result receiving a glare from Felix. “Ponyboy?”

Hyunjin’s smile faltered. “Do not even ask,” he only snapped, and returned his focus to you. “Let’s go.”

You stood up from your stool. “Where are we going?”

He began to walk out of the shop. “Our next stop,” he said, smiling at your scowl over his vague answer.

As he glanced at his friends, he saluted, a gesture of friendly mockery. “Thank you, you two.”

“Anytime, Hyunjin,” Felix said, and he took your hand, pressing a chaste kiss upon your skin. “And thank you for letting us decorate your hair.”

“No, please,” you countered, “Thank you for such an extraordinary present. I won’t forget the gesture.”

“Do see us again, ____!” Jeongin exclaimed, which, after you chuckled, you promised you would.

After waving the two goodbye, you followed Hyunjin out of the flower shop, a confident stride in your step as your flower-kissed braid trailed after you. 

The streets were fuller, the crowds more loud and excited as you two squeezed through people, with Kkami trotting behind on Hyunjin’s leash. The silly horse tried to pluck a few flowers from your braid but you made sure your hair stayed intact, having no intention of it being ruined in any circumstances. 

“Hyunjin, where are you taking me?” You demanded, trudging through the streets. Your feet, still bare, began to hurt. “If we don’t stop soon I’ll collapse!” 

He spared a glance at your step, wincing as a pained groan escaped you. “It’s not far,” he said, looking ahead once more.

“Ponyboy, can’t you carry me?” you whined, and when he turned back to see you, you braced yourself for a verbal lashing with the frown he adorned. 

Instead, you were hit with something quite different. 

After a hard, ragged sigh, he paused his walking, widening his arms from behind. “You better not be heavy,” he warned.

You watched him hunchbacked, dumbfounded at his acceptance. Since when was he complacent on giving you comfort?

Your cheeks then burned when you were reminded of that night again. Of the turquoise vest, which, although was hugging his lean figure now, was hugging you. 

“Are you going to just keep staring at me,” Hyunjin jeered, bringing you back to reality, “Or are you actually going to jump on?”

“Oh!” you got out, and stepped towards him.

You slid your arms around his shoulders, locking your hands upon his chest. You then felt his hands wrap around your thighs, and a small breath went free from your throat as he hitched you upwards, grip tightening on you. 

“You are very lucky to have me, witch,” the man gritted out. 

He then yelped as you pinched his shoulder. “You are very lucky to have me, Ponyboy,” you only mused, and raised your fist in the air, despite the growing nerves. “Come on now, let’s get going!”

Hyunjin obliged you, starting up a heavy, yet steady pace towards their destination. Each time he took a step, it radiated off you, and you hoped to all the heavens above that your body would not give up on you. Every time the man hitched you higher, though, had the possibility becoming much less likely.

You had not realised just how much his hands on your thighs affected your very senses. 

A few specifics from the crowd watched the two of you in adoration, murmuring how sweet it was for your lover to hold you when you were tired. When Hyunjin heard these whispers he nearly dumped you on the cobblestone, but you did not miss the scarlet blush which developed on his face. The rather charming image had you smiling as you rested your cheek against his neck. 

The man kept his hands secure, never letting you go till you arrived at wherever he wished to take you. You only knew you arrived when his grip on you loosened, straightening his back so you had no choice but to feel the street beneath you. So bizarre that you missed his touch — his warm, welcoming fingers.

You followed to where he looked, and saw the front of the shop littered with shoes. Different types of footwear, all neatly stacked on wooden racks, their sizes carved into the wood. You did not have the time to carefully admire each design before Hyunjin tied Kkami to another column, feeding him an apple before taking your hand and leading you inside the store.

The minute you entered you were welcomed with a homely extravagance, more and more shoes being displayed all around you, different colours and patterns luring you into getting all the pairs. It was a little odd, that your companion wished to show you this place so eagerly, but when he rang a bell atop the counter, and another man with fire-kissed hair entered from another door, furiously sewing on the back of a child’s shoe, you assumed that he must be acquainted.

“Minho!” Hyunjin exclaimed, following the said-man to where he paused his stride, setting the shoe down and breaking the thread, finished. 

“And what do you want?” was the heartfelt response, as the seller put the object under the counter. Hyunjin mockingly pouted, to which his friend scoffed. “Oh, you’re not getting any free clothes this time! Pay or go away!”

You let out a small chuckle at his tagline, and the man’s eyes darted to you, brow raised. “And who is this lady?” he inquired, fingers drumming on the countertop. “Who is much too beautiful to be accompanying this swindler?”

“Hey!” the man beside you objected, but you could not help the laughter which spluttered from your lips. 

“My name is ____,” you said, locking your hands behind your back. You then roamed your eyes about the room, turning to him once again, awed. “Did you make all these yourself?”

“Why, of course!” Minho opened up the countertop, joining you as he admired his work. “I take pride in my work, and am glad you appreciate them.” He then glanced at Hyunjin, squinting his eyes. “It’s honest money, after all.”

Confused, you looked to your companion but he only rolled his eyes, waving off the comments. “Save the sarcasm for later, buddy,” he drawled, and propped a hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “Now show me your best shoes for women.”

You widened your eyes. “Hyunjin?”

Minho curved his lips. “Oh, trying to delve into a new world, now?” 

“Shut up,” was his answer, as the long-haired man strolled further into the shop, right where all the elegant, more colourful shoes were inhabited. “Ah, here we go.”

You followed him hurriedly, not quite understanding. “Hyunjin, what are you doing?”

He only trailed a finger across the racks, humming to a few shoes which caught his eye. “Getting you a present.”

This only added to your shock. “What?” You breathed out, but he was too busy picking out a pair of boots, dark with silver lining around the edges. “Hyunjin!”

“How do you feel about these?” He held them out to you, who still did not comprehend why he was giving you a birthday present. 

Well, it was your birthday. So why did you expect him to give you nothing at all?

“____!”

You blinked. “What?”

He holds the black boots. “What are your thoughts?” 

Before you could answer, Minho clicked his tongue, walking to where you both stood. “Hyunjin, do you not know anything of styling?”

“What do you mean by that?” The long-haired man furrowed his brows. 

“Whatever you think I did.” The shoe-seller turned to you, mock pity in his gaze. “My lady, let me help you out. This buffoon does not know the art of attire.”

“Ugh!” Your companion grumbled, and you could not help but melt a little at his pouted irritation.

Minho watched his friend cross his arms, looking away in annoyance. “Let him sulk,” he said, and smiled at you. “Until then, I’ll find you something worth your beauty.”

You return his enthusiasm, letting him whisk you further into the women’s section, all the shoes in fashion at the time displayed before you, begging to be worn by you. Minho’s designing eye had to be commended — the man knew how to create.

“Let me see what you’re wearing,” the orange-haired man ordered, and you gave him a little twirl of your violet dress, your flower-littered braid following. 

“The flowers are adorable, might I add,” he said, and you thanked him excitedly, watching him choose more softer colours to pick your perfect pair of shoes from. 

At last, his hands settled upon soft, ballerina-like shoes, lilac in colour and ribbons flaring out from the back. With a satisfied hum he brought out the pair, holding them out to you. “What do you think?”

You brought out your hands, holding the shoes, and felt your smile grow. “They’re so pretty,” you gushed, feeling the silky ribbon between your fingers. “May I try them on?”

“Go right ahead, my lady.” He gestured to a leather seat, and you sat yourself down, just as Hyunjin walked up to Minho, scowl still there. “Are you done moping around now?”

“Quiet, you,” your companion snapped, but his agitation faded when he saw you dust away at your feet, and slide them inside the shoes. Your other foot pursued the first, and you stood the ribbons scattered to the floor.

“You’re supposed to tie them,” Minho explained, about to show you when a hand stopped him. 

He was met with Hyunjin’s determined features. “I’ll do it.”

You watched as the long-haired boy stopped before you, hands landing on your shoulders as he pushed you back on the seat. He then knelt before you, taking the attached ribbon in his hands. “May I?”

Your heart skipped happily a little beat. “Of course.”

Raising your leg slightly, you offered him easier access as he began looping the two strips of ribbon, one overlapping the toner and continuing this cycle till the material wrapped all the way up to your shin. You slid your dress higher, and only stopped when Hyunjin tied a little bow at the top of your entangled ribbon. He then did the same to your other leg, effortlessly wrapping the strips all around your leg till it hit the shin once more. After another bow, his fingers lingered on your leg, barely skimming over your ribbon-adorned skin.

He looked up at you, and an unrecognisable haze lifted in his eyes. “Happy birthday, ____.”

You certainly could recognise the butterflies in your stomach, fluttering much too uncontrollably. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Perhaps you both could have relished in this position forever were someone’s voice not dragged you both down to reality. 

“Are you both going to keep eye-rutting each other or am I going to get my fare?”

You immediately stood up, feeling yourself heat up over the comment. Hyunjin, too, snarled at his amused friend, buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his vest. “I’ve got it, you greedy prick.”

“Good,” Minho only said, smirking at the two of you as he retreated to his counter, where all his gold was stored. You and Hyunjin followed him there, the slight distance having too much weight for it to be comfortable.

Your companion brought out a little bag, jingling as he set it upon the countertop. “This alright?”

Taking the bag, his friend weighed it with his hand, and nodded in satisfaction. “Better than that.”

“Thank you so much for this, Minho,” you began, putting a hand to your chest in respect. “I will cherish these shoes.”

“You better, my lady,” he teased, but returned your gesture. 

You turned to leave with Hyunjin, beginning to head out when he stopped. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” 

He rushed back to the seller, who sighed. “You just can’t leave me alone, can you?”

His question was ignored, and was instead presented with another. “Minho, have you seen Jisung recently?”

This had the fire-kissed man cocking his head. “I did,” he answered, shocking Hyunjin. “Yesterday, actually.”

“By God—” The long-haired man could barely contain himself. He whirled to you, pointing to the entrance. “You go outside and untie Kkami. I’ll be right out.”

“Hyunjin,” you tried to object, but the look on his face, the silent pleading, had you giving in, nodding grimly as you exited the shop, waving to the owner.

Kkami welcomed you with a hearty neigh, and you stroked his mane, slowly untying his reins. “Why does he not tell me things?”

Your answer was another noise from the horse, and you patted the creature, leading it out on the streets. The sun was descending, light still clear yet the first glimpses of oranges had arrived. The fireworks were mere hours away.

The man had not come out after a while, you looking back every now and then, catching concern in his dazzling features. The people’s excitement did little to have you join in, and you began to worry that something may be wrong. 

You were about to go inside the shoe shop once more when you caught sight of Hyunjin exiting, hands fisted at his sides, expression grim. 

Stopping before you, you worked up the courage to ask first. “What’s going on?”

Surprised, you noticed he could not even look at you. His eyes drifted away, a tick in his jaw, teeth grazing over another. Oh, the man was enraged. 

When let in a deep breath, he faced you, catching guilt in his slender eyes. “I cannot be with you when the fireworks occur.”

Silence.

Despite the merriment around the two of you, the pure joy radiating in the kingdom, you felt your heart stop. “What?”

The man tightened his little ponytail, locks still caressing his neck as he tried to avert your gaze. “I have to be elsewhere when nightfalls, but I can show you where you can see them best, so you’ll be okay-”

“Hyunjin-”

He continued, closing his eyes. “I don’t want you missing the fireworks, so let me show you the best spot before I have to leave.”

You could not believe your ears. “Hyunjin, I-”

“And I know how important they are to you, so I suggest we start going right now, so I can be on my way-”

He would have gone forever, rambling excuses if you had not looked down, at his clenching, unclenching hands. If you had not reached your own hands out, clasping them with his. The man ceased his digression at the sudden contact, and finally whipped his head to you. His frantic eyes met yours, and something within you cracked. 

You did not let go as you breathed out, “What’s the matter, Ponyboy?”

No irritation responded to you from the nickname. Only his commencing of his thumbs, stroking the back of your hands. “I have learned of Jisung’s location.”

Parting your mouth in surprise, you asked, “Where is he, then?”

“I do not know where he is now, but I know where he will go tonight.” his gaze scrutinised you. “And do not think I will tell you of that place.”

“What?” Bewildered, you took a step closer, and noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. At the time, you took no note of it. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because for the past few days I’ve been with you, the one thing I’ve learned about you is that you’re incredibly foolish.” You scoffed at this strange declaration, but he carried on. “I know that if you learned where I was going you’re going to follow, especially if I tell you not to go.”

You were about to object, but you shut your mouth, glancing sheepishly back at him. “Well, maybe you should let me come with you!”

“Damn it, ____, I probably would have any other time.” He let out a harsh sigh. “It is much too dangerous tonight.”

“Damn you, Hyunjin, what is it that’s so troubling that you even can’t tell me?” you demanded, your grip on his hands tightening. “What did this Jisung do to you?”

The mere mention of his name had the man hissing. “The bastard crossed me,” he guttered, and you felt his rage pour off of him. “And I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

You watched him helplessly, clinging onto his hands. “Hyunjin, please,” you pleaded. “Please, let me help you.”

As you watched his stare peer into you, you witnessed the chaos behind his eyes, a civil war raging within him whether to trust you or not. You prayed to the heavens that this man, this reckless, insufferable, heartwarming man, would let you in.

He opened his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, ____.”

Letting go of your hands, he took the reins of his horse. “It’s too dangerous.” he then murmured to himself, and although it was quiet, you heard the words well enough.

“God forbid if I let you get hurt.”

He then stepped passed you, already walking ahead, leaving you to catch up to his agitated stride. 

Of course you were angry. How could you not be? you asked yourself as you followed him, refusing to stroll beside him. You two have been travelling together for nearly a week, yet he still does not trust you enough to tell you of his troubles. Disappointment washed over you more, for ever thinking he would give you a chance. 

You knew that if you were in his position, you would tell him everything.

After a few twists and turns of the street, you were met with a network of ports, a whole civilisation mingling upon wooden stilts. Boats of all shoes and sizes docked along the wooden lines, and you saw with mild surprise that barrels of fireworks were filled to brim on each deck. 

“Around the evening, this place will clear away, and all the little boats will enter, offering places to see the fireworks.” Hyunjin glanced at you, but you refused to meet his eyes. “Find yourself a boat, and have him row you beyond the kingdom.”

Nodding, you began to descend on the steps, until your wrist was caught by his hand. “____.”

Still, you looked ahead.“What?”

“I’m sorry.” A pause. “You know I’d let you come if circumstances were different.”

Silence was his answer, to his immense dismay. He let go of your hand, and instead had you gripping your horse’s reins. “Take care of Kkami while I’m gone.”

Holding on, you looked back, and made sure he drank in the solemnity of your gaze. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

A little laugh huffed out of him; it was all he could offer, when he turned, and strode into the crowds of Corona. 

God. It physically hurt seeing him leave.

Kkami neighed softly. “I know,” you only said, already wishing dusk would arrive. 

At least the fireworks were still happening. Something you’ve been wanting to see for years is right before you now.

So with that small consolation, you sat down on the stone steps, watching the port’s business as you stretched your feet, now adorned in a Hyunjin’s birthday present, and waited for time to pass. Sometimes, when your mind drifted to that certain man, you would run a shaking finger over the white rose embedded in your hair. 

This was harder than you thought.

The sun began to descend some more, the blue sky morphing into more oranges, reds and pinks. The atmosphere was hushed now, chatter still here and there, but almost awaiting for something. The larger ships had set sail long before, and, just as Hyunjin had said, smaller boats populated the docks, devoid of the fireworks. 

Curiosity peaking at your mind, you heaved up to your feet, dusting the back of your dress, and, tugging Kkami, decided to go upon the wooden wharf, taking the longer route without the stairs. 

The horse, seeing the water, began to stomp its hooves, but you reassured him, stroking its long face as you led him along the dock, careful of the sailors. 

You reached near the end of the dock, and noticed a small boat anchored at the very edge, fireworks stored all around it. There was a small man settled inside the boat, tying up stray objects with rope, whistling sweetly away. You tried to take a step forward, but Kkami neighed loudly, frightened to get closer to the bed of water. 

“Kkami!” you seethed, trying to calm the creature down, but it only made more noise, stirring the people around you. Sending them apologetic looks, you took out a carrot, seducing the animal with it until it settled, munching on the vegetable.

“Careful with that fine horse of yours, Miss!” 

Startled, you turned around, and saw the same man you were looking at now staring back at you. He had a friendly, curious smile upon his face. His dark locks were swiped back with a dirtied cloth, tying at the back of his neck. His loose shirt followed the sea breeze, and as you took a step closer, his hands came into view, roughened with labour. 

Catching your expression, he chuckled to himself, a sweet little sound despite his appearance. “You should know horses don’t like the water much,” he explained, continuing with his work. 

“Ah, sorry,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s my first time taking care of a horse. It’s my friend’s, you see.” You could not help the irritation slip.

The sailor sure sensed it. “Oh, no,” he mused, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “Has this friend let you down in any way?”

Careful to tie Kkami along the railings, you walked towards him, fisting your hands. “I was going to watch the fireworks with him,” you confided. “But he just abandoned me! To go heaven knows where!”

The man scoffed, tying the fireworks. “A man, I presume?” you nodded, and he sighed, setting the bunch in his boat. “Just tell me the name, my lady, and I’ll take care of him for you.”

You huffed out a laugh at his offer, waving it off. “Oh, it’s alright. I just wish I knew where he was.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back,” the man reassured you. “As long as he has not gone anywhere near the castle walls.”

You paused as the words left his mouth. “Why?”

He turned to you, leaning back in his boat. “A lot of suspicious dealings happen there, my lady. Almost every thief in Corona sells their faux possessions along the abandoned walls of the palace. Especially today, with everyone distracted by the fireworks.”

The moment you heard this information, you felt your interest spike to the clouds. “Oh?” you sat yourself upon the docks. 

“My lady, please.” He gestures to a free seat upon his boat. “I cannot have you sitting on this dirty wood.”

He held out a hand, and you took it, taking a mindful step onto the boat, and, making sure you weren’t going to fall into the waters, stepped inside, hull shaking as you settled down before the man. He let go, and put that hand on his chest. “I’m Changbin, by the way,” he introduced. “I need to prepare for the fireworks but I’m only just behind.” He then regarded your hair, wonderment in his gaze. “How long is your hair?”

“The name’s ____, and longer than you think,” you replied, bringing the massive braid in front of you, stroking the flowers. “You said there were thieves in the Kingdom?”

Changbin looked at you incredulously. “____, there are crooks everywhere around here.” his incredulity then turned a little timid. “I must confess, I was one myself.” he then sat up. “Not anymore, though! I swore never to degrade myself like that ever again.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” you consoled him. “I assume it would have been entertaining.”

“I guess so.” He relaxed once more, watching the lazy waves lap over each other. “Though I had never done anything too fantastical.” He pondered some more. “Actually, there was one adventure I partook in. Hellish, but incredibly delightful.”

The sailor then exhaled deeply. “Maybe that’s because I was on a job with Hyunjin.”

You were about to ask more when you stilled.

Hyunjin.

“Did…” you knitted your brows, not sure you heard him properly. “Did you say Hyunjin?” You leaned in, now fully focused. “You know him?”

Changbin stared at you for a few seconds before he burst into laughter. “Who doesn’t know of Hwang Hyunjin?

“The most famous thief of the Kingdom.”

Your mouth dropped. 

“Hyunjin? A thief?”

“Why, the greatest one out there!” He chuckled some more. “I was very lucky to go on an exploit with him, but he usually stole treasure alone.”

He then corrected himself. “No, in fact, there was someone else he always committed his plundering with. Damn it, I can’t remember the name…”

Your assistance was barely a whisper. “Jisung?”

“Ah, yes!” he exclaimed. “Those two were joined at the hip. Though, mind you, ____, I spied the man wandering around the streets alone.”

“You did?” 

A nod was your answer. “He had this big bag with him, and from my previous adventures with them I knew it was Hyunjin’s.” Changbin drummed a finger upon his chin, lower lip sliding over the top. “Something suspicious is amiss.”

With the way your eyes widened, everything coming to you in an instant, you knew. 

Something horrific will go down. 

Jisung’s apparent betrayal, from the conversation at the tavern. Hyunjin saying it was too dangerous to disclose wherever he was going to go. Changbin revealing a huge trade off occurring around the castle walls, including the big thieves of Corona. 

It all made sense. 

You suddenly shot up, yelping as you nearly fell off the boat. “Careful!” the man warned, but acting with caution was the least of your concerns when you now knew where that long-haired bastard was.

“Changbin, I have to go to the palace walls,” you said, hopping quickly off the shaking boat. 

The sailor, steadying it, stepped onto the docks, too, puzzled over your sudden change. “Good God, why do you want to go tonight?”

He then looked into your eyes. Saw the desperation, the realisation that hit you not moments before.

“Oh dear God!”

Walking to you, he planted a hand upon his forehead.”Hwang Hyunjin’s the friend?” 

“Changbin,” you began, looking back on the streets. “He’s in deep trouble. He’s gone near the castle walls to confront Jisung and I’m so scared something’s going to happen.”

Looking ahead, the sailor bit the inside of his cheek, weighing in his options. He glanced at his boat, and the fireworks, needing to be transported near the palace. “We need to be quick, _____.” 

Bringing out a dagger, glinting in the new moonlight, he asked, “Do you have a weapon with you?”

You searched through the bags strapped upon Kkami, and whipped out your frying pan. “Got it.”

Changbin raised his brows, but decided against commenting on your choice. “Keep the horse here, then. We need to be as quiet as possible when we arrive at the wall.”

He then stepped past you, leading you up the steps and back into the crowd, making sure you’re close behind. The two of you made little noise as you left the populated streets, diving into private neighbourhoods, avoiding questionable groups who stared at you, and only averted their gaze when Changbin flashed his dagger in the moonlight.

As the palace came closer in view, you felt your nerves return. Not even for yourself, you realised, as you turned another corner, walking silently along the muddied footpaths. More for the long-haired thief who may or not be in extreme danger. 

You prayed to the heavens he was okay. Because if something happened to him, you really did not know what you would do. Did not even want to comprehend the turnout of events if things turned sour.

“____.” 

You perked up at the mention, realising that you had reached the start of the palace barricade. The walls towered over the two of you, fencing you from the inside of the royal lands. Changbin looked at your right, and sure enough, at the far end, from the houses clustered together in a close, a group of men were gathered. The sailor beside you crept closer, back against the house walls, and you journeyed nearer, the former quickly switching to another residence, taking you with him. Beyond the building, you both studied the group closer. Before you, with his back to you, was a slender figured man, his black longcoat blowing in the night breeze. Although you could not see his face, you heard his uncontrollable cackling, taking a step closer to the group, holding onto a certain fugitive.

You nearly let out a scream. There he was, your esteemed Ponyboy, struggling to free from the thieves’ hold as he raged against the man before you. His semi-ponytail was left down, stray locks tumbling over his face, and his boots dug into the cobblestone.

“Look at you,” this man cooed, leaning into your companion. “All angry and ready to slit my throat.” 

“You took what was mine!” Hyunjin roared. He was met with another round of heartless laughter, and you realised that this man was no doubt the notorious Jisung. 

“We need a distraction,” Changbin said, looking around the dimmed area. “Otherwise…”

He did not need to say more. 

“I took what was needed to send a signal,” Jisung clarified, studying something in his hands. However, you could not see. “That I have no desire to share my treasures with you.”

“You bastard!” the captive growled, but was shoved down by Jisung’s men once more. “I did all the work! I put my life on the line and you know that!”

“A shame that life wasn’t taken,” was his cool answer. “Now I’m going to have to take it myself.”

You and Changbin exchanged fearful glances. You needed to act. Now.

Just as the sailor was about to step into the scene, loud music began to play.

Sounding from nearby, it not only stopped you, but the thieves in front of you. It was a sweet harmonising with a flute and a fiddle, and, puzzled, you saw the same expression on Hyunjin’s capturers. 

Then, you heard the voice which led the music.

“Who has the right mind to be singing in a neighbourhood like this?” Changbin whispered furiously, but you only answered his question with a knowing smile.

It was the same, mellow call which you drank to at the tavern. And when another voice joined in, you nearly laughed, already remembering the fond memories.

Mr. Chan and Seungmin arrived just in time.

Jisung turned his head to the direction of the music, and you saw the side of his face, doe eyes marred in irritation, thin lips pursed. “Who the fuck is belting out a song at this hour?” He looked to the four men, pointing to two. “You both! Go check the drunkards and shut them up.”

Obeying the command, the rest still kept an iron grip on Hyunjin, who, you could tell with a broken heart, was losing his strength. The fury, however, was still there, daggering his former partner in crime. 

“Now, tell me, Hyunjin,” Jisung mused, wrenching the man’s face forward with a hand, clasping his cheeks. “How did you manage to heal yourself so quickly?” His gaze dipped, to the dried blood stains on his turquoise vest. “I was sure you’d die off from the stab wound.”

“Well, you were wrong, weren’t you?”

Jisung, scoffing, dug his nails in his cheeks, causing Hyunjin to release a pained exhale. “I can see that, you little prick. Now I know it was deep enough to take weeks to heal.”

He leaned in, tilting his head in curiosity. “How did you manage to fix yourself up like that? Where did you find such a miracle?”

Your companion was about to snarl out a retort when his eyes darted beyond Jisung, into the dark. He caught the sight of a white rose.

His eyes, then, caught sight of you. 

Of you, hiding in the shade.

His mouth stayed parted. 

You pressed a finger to your lips, taking a careful step out of the dark.

“Oi! Hyunjin!” Jisung forced him to look at him again, anger simmering. “What was the miracle?!”

Your long-haired thief watched his once best friend, a still peace harbouring his face. With one last glance towards you, he smirked, sliding his gaze back.

“It was no miracle, Jisung,” he rasped out.

“It was witchcraft.” 

Just then, when you were about to swing your frying pan down on Hyunjin’s nemesis, a deafening sound erupted from the earth.

Blinding lights shot into the sky. Exploded into millions more, blazing into different directions. More coloured brilliance followed, illuminating the night.

You felt your soul at a standstill.

“The fireworks!”

Hyunjin, watching everyone distracted, took the golden opportunity and raised his fists to the men’s chins, causing them to yelp in pain. They released his hold on him, and the man wrenched free, already on one of Jisung’s lackey’s. 

The leader took note of the commotion, widening his eyes. “For God’s sake, it’s two against one!”

Soon, it was two against two as Changbin raised his knife, charging towards the other man. He landed a damaging hit on his shoulder, and the chase began in taking them down. 

His back still to you, you raised the pan, watching him about to charge towards Hyunjin.

You were ready to swing it on his head when the second round of fireworks started.

Looking back, completely off guard, this time they were more victorious, like beacons bursting in the cloudless sky. It was a shame the castle blocked the main view of their ascent, only seeing wisps of the blaze.

However, remembering you have a man to knock out, you turned to see the very nemesis.

Jisung, although not very large in build, had a calculating, cunning face which chilled you to the bone. Even your arms felt numb holding the pan, when his stare penetrated through your every layer. 

“Oh my,” he murmured, taking a slow step towards you. Reflexively, you took one back, weapon still out. “And who might you be?”

“Hyunjin’s miracle,” you spat, and you dared to take a full swing of the pan.

To your absolute horror, Jisung instantly dodged, ducking and then grabbing the handle from you. He waved it in the air, grinning like a demon in your scary stories. 

“Look at you,” he purred, continuing his tempered pace towards you. Fear curled in your stomach, hands slack at your sides, feet backing away. “Trying to fight me with a kitchen utensil.”

He chuckled darkly. “It’s almost adorable.”

You did not realise how long you were retreating for till your back hit the murky, palace walls. When you caught the predatory gleam in Jisung’s eyes, your breathing nearly ceased to work. 

“You really thought you’d save your little thief,” he crowed, daring another step, creeping closer, too close for your liking. He threw the pan behind him, skidding along the cobblestone. “With what? A sailor and a frying pan?”

When he was only a mere few inches from you, he regarded your braided hair, the flowers which littered among each strand. You froze up completely when his fingers reached out, tucking in a stray curl behind the beloved rose. 

“Or perhaps it was your infinite locks that healed him.”

You could not suppress the shiver that escaped you, and he, noticing, snickered, planting the hand beside your head. “Where is your salvaged thief now?” he whispered. 

The fireworks erupted behind you still, and you closed your eyes, not able to take in what was to happen next. Hyunjin was right. You should never have come here. 

But you would have done it again without hesitation. Ponyboy was in trouble, and hopefully he took this opportunity and ran away from this scene. 

You would fight a thousand Jisungs to save him, over and over again. 

Jisung was about to take the next step, do something unnamable.

Till you heard the loudest PANG!

Instantly, you opened your eyes, and found the wicked man being thrown to the side, thudding on the dirty cobblestone. From the sound of the pang! You knew that this man was unconscious. He ceased to even move.

You whipped your head to whoever knocked Jisung out straight.

And let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in.

Hwang Hyunjin stood before you, heaving as he held up your frying pan. His eyes, dilated, were rooted to you, and his mouth was parted, mist escaping his lips and joining the cool night air.

Silence fell upon the close, with Changbin finished dealing with the last of men, and the two of you just stared and stared at each other till you let out a ragged sigh.

“You can never insult my frying pan again.”

You waited for him to laugh, or even scoff at your ridiculous statement after experiencing a life-threatening situation.

The man did not even smile.

Only dumped the pan upon the ground before he was on you in seconds.

His hand clasped onto your wrist, and pulled you towards him. You stumbled into his chest, and when he wrapped his arms around you, you found yourself being nearly crushed with his hug.

He nestled his head into your neck, his locks falling to your shoulder, free of the ribbon which tied them. “This is why,” he muttered upon your skin, “I did not want you following me.”

You rested your cheek against his chest, returning his embrace. “If you get to save me, I get to save you too.”

There was a heavy pause. “You missed the fireworks because of me,” he whispered, and hearing the guilt in his voice nearly undid you. “I don’t even know how to compensate for something you’ve waited so long to see.”

Although there was that downside, something within you wasn’t as devastated at the thought as you’d expected to be. “There’s always next year, Ponyboy,” you reassured him. You then smiled deviously. “Or should I say thief?”

Hyunjin pulled away slightly, holding you still as he blushed scarlet with embarrassment. “I suppose you know I’m no adventurer.”

You caught the slight fear in his eyes, and your heart broke. He really thought you’d be wary of him now that you knew of his true identity.

Squeezing his shoulders, you offered him mischief through your smile. “Being a witch isn’t so far off from being a thief.”

A little laugh spluttered from him, but he quickly reigned in his amusement, looking at you once again. “You know, I never really wanted to do this,” he confessed. “As a child, I always had to look out for myself, and stealing was the only way to escape poverty.”

His hands tightened on you. “I really want to get out of this mess. In fact, I was going to let Jisung get away with everything, but he took something very precious of mine.”

He turned to his satchel, the one his nemesis was said to have pinched, and went through the inside until he brought out the most stunning necklace, the diamonds glistening as gold swirls curled along its edges, the golden chain studded with more of that jewel all around. 

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, observing the jewellery. “It’s beautiful.”

The man hummed in agreement. “It was my mother’s,” he said, admiring the necklace. “It is the one of the few things which is truly mine.”

His soft voice hardened. “Jisung stealing it was the last straw for me.”

You upheld his gaze. “I would have done the same.”

He did not say anything for a bit, just regarding you under the moonlight. Well, in his eyes, it was more admiration, awe-stricken marvelling. 

You, in his eyes, were a little too stunning under this night. 

The thief was to say offer something when he heard more voices. 

Freezing, he turned around, only to find more men joining Changbin. The men who contributed in saving him.

After staring at you a moment longer, he let go of you. “Let’s join the others.”

You nodded, not missing his hand on the small of your back as he led you to his friends. Chan, Seungmin and Minho were all talking amongst themselves, despite the unconscious bodies around them. They all noticed you both walking towards them, and instantly they all smiled at your arrival.

“____!” Chan exclaimed, raising his wooden fiddle in excitement. 

“We missed you so much at the inn!” Seungmin added, holding his silver flute.

“I nearly died ten minutes ago, prick,” Hyunjin guttered, but was only responded with more laughter. 

Minho, raking a hand through his fire-kissed hair, clicked his tongue at you, dipping his eyes. “Not even a day and you’ve muddied the shoes,” he drawled, earning a stuck out tongue from you.

“When did you arrive?” you asked him. “I only heard Chan and Seungmin’s singing.”

“I was handling more men further ahead.” he then rolled his eyes. “Felix and Jeongin were supposed to help me but the little one’s stomach started to hurt. Apparently he ate too many doughnuts in the afternoon.”

Hyunjin glanced at you, eyebrows raised, and you scoffed. “Excuse me! You were taking your time! Not my fault Jeongin and I got hungry.”

“You did not get to see the fireworks, then,” Seungmin stated. You shook your head, hugging yourself a little tighter. 

“What a shame,” Chan said, sadness in his usual cheerful tone. “I remember you talking about the event so fondly.”

Changbin, who was quiet throughout, then spoke up. “Actually,” he started, looking at you. “I think I can fix that.”

You and all the men turned to him, baffled. He only said, “Minho, bring Felix and Jeongin to the docks in fifteen minutes. Bring some good snacks with you.”

“What have you got in mind, Bin?” Hyunjin asked, furrowing his brows, but Changbin only stepped past the group, whistling.

“Follow me, friends!” he declared, sheathing his dagger. Everyone, still confused, decided to follow, save for Minho, who turned to another avenue to fetch the absent two.

You and Hyunjin walked side by side, hands skimming against each other as the men in front of you led you out of the network of residences, until you were away from the palace walls, and any more danger.

Soon, you found yourself descending the same steps where the thief had left you to face Jisung. The people had dispersed, as the fireworks had ended, yet when Changbin turned the corner, to the far end of the harbour, his little, firework-filled boat still floating upon the sea. Kkami was present too, waiting patiently for his owner to return, and when Hyunjin saw him he sighed in relief, hurrying towards him.

The horse neighed eagerly as the man stroked his mane. Changbin stepped past him, carefully getting on the boat, searching for some flint and steel.

It was then you realised. 

“We’re getting our very own fireworks show!”

The sailor grinned at your enthusiasm. “We can’t let a lady be disappointed.”

Chan tapped on his fiddle. “Seungmin and I can play the music!” he declared, wrapping an arm around his friend.

You clasped your hands together. “Oh, I’d love to dance!”

“Let me join in!”

Stunned, you whirled around, and found Jeongin running up to you, beaming from ear to ear as Felix and Minho followed behind, holding food. You returned his smile, calling, “Jeongin! Feeling better now?”

Blushing, he scratched the back of his neck, raven waves curling under his ears. “Ah, I really wished I could have helped at the palace walls, but my stomach chickened out on me.”

Felix tutted as he set the food along the benches. “I told you to stop eating, but you do not listen!”

“He goes after all of us here, then,” Minho commented.

“Can someone help me with the lighting?” Changbin asked, and the men flocked to assist him.

Only Hyunjin stood rooted as he tied his messy locks back, staring at you with an indecipherable emotion.

It did not go unnoticed. “What’s wrong?” 

You could tell he was thinking. Pondering hard over what he wanted to do next. 

He then brought his hands upon your shoulders, turning your back to him. “Hyunjin?” you got out, surprised, but he said nothing as you heard him fishing something out of his satchel.

You were about to turn around and scold him when you felt cold metal upon your neck. 

Looking down, a small gasp escaped you when you found his mother’s necklace settled on your skin, tinkling as the man clipped the lock under your head of hair. When he was done, he spun you around, assessing the added accessory upon you. 

He smiled lovingly at the sight.

“Hyunjin, I-” you started, trying to untie the necklace. “I-I can’t take this from you.”

Pausing your efforts, he held onto your hands. “Yes you can. I want you to have this.” you tried to argue some more, but he raised his brows. “No! I don’t want to hear more.”

Your eyes swirled with something akin to affection. “Hyunjin.”

His lips curved upwards. “You know, ____, I always call you a witch but…” he let out a shuddered breath, fingers playing with a stray curl. “But you certainly never looked like one.”

Your heart, damn the thing, fluttered at the statement. You only held onto the lapels of his vest, wishing that all these people would fade away, if only for a moment. 

The long-haired thief leaned in a little, tugging you closer, and perhaps he would have closed the distance were it not for Changbin letting out a victorious screech. 

“It’s happening, everyone!” 

He quickly jumped off the boat, others following as the spark was lightened. Everyone took a few steps back, watching the spark fuse closer to the fireworks, Hyunjin holding onto you still.

Chan bumped his elbow against Seungmin, firing up his instrument. “Let us liven up, everyone!”

Seungmin brought the mouth of the flute to his lips, and instantly, music began to fill the docks. 

“When will the fireworks start?” Minho demanded, tapping his foot, but when Felix shushed everyone, they all watched as the fuse hit the heart of the firecrackers.

The first thing that welcomed you all was a very loud BANG!

Everyone jumped at the sheer light which flashed before your eyes, shooting for the stars as it burst into the sky, scattering bright brilliance upon the sea. More and more fireworks joined in on this fire-like race, exploding everywhere in the air, igniting gasps of wonder from the crowd.

You were the most awed in the entire group. Ever since you were young, you had admired this show from miles away, but now, when it was a few metres from you, it filled with you with the same light that it spluttered down on you. Although it was not the official fireworks which you wished to see originally, this alternative was just as extraordinary - more so, as it was done just for you.

The fireworks were then accompanied with music, being fired up once more by the innkeepers, and instantly everyone began to dance along the merry beat, singing along to Seungmin’s and Jeongin’s honey voice. 

You joined in on this fun, making sure to swing along to the music with everyone, joining arms with Jeongin and then moving to Minho, changing to Changbin and then frolicking with Felix, you even sang with Seungmin, chuckling with Chan as you try to steal his fiddle, and you twirled and twirled in the middle, dress and plait trailing after you.

Hyunjin, sat upon the benches, clapped to the merriment, his smile lingering whenever a breathless laugh escaped you as you danced with all his friends. When you caught sight of him settled alone, you ran to him, ushering him to join in. he refused at first, hurryingly saying he hated to dance, but you grabbed onto his hands and wrenched him off the bench, a yelp fleeing his lips as he was dragged into the center.

Hands still clasped, you led them about your waist, not missing the blush staining his cheeks as you planted your hands on his shoulders, moving him along to the music.

“Oh, my, Ponyboy,” you drawled as you felt yourself being led by hands. “You are a good dancer.”

“I never said I was bad at it,” he mused, twirling you around. You tried to fight your smirk, both pairs of eyes joining in their twinkling.

Yours began to glisten even more when you dared to say, “You know, Ponyboy,” you started, voice dripped with mischief. 

He watched you, lips twitching. “Yes?”

“When the fireworks occur…” you lock your hands behind his neck. “You’re supposed to kiss the person you’re dancing with.”

The way Hyunjin's eyes widened at the implication had your stomach in disarray. The surprise quickly darkened when he leaned in, cocking his head. “Oh, really?” his little chuckle was felt on your lips. “It is too bad you’re a witch, then.”

Returning his laughter, you dared raise your fingers to his ribbon, untying the strip and letting his luscious curls fall at his shoulders. “What a blessing for you,” you said, “That this witch does not follow the rules.”

The man’s smile was unforgettable. “Neither does this thief.”

That was all he said, before closing the distance between you two.

The moment his lips touched yours, it was like another round of fireworks had erupted. This time, these fireworks were within you and the man before you, moving plush lips against you and bringing you the finest form of sweetness you had ever tasted. You melted under him, he pulling you right against his chest, unable to accept any distance between the both of you. 

A soft noise left you as he pulled away from you, mouth parted, glistening like the diamonds adorning you. Around you, cheers broke out from the boys, whooping at the kiss you and Hyunjin shared. Although your cheeks burned, you giggled at their reaction, staying close with the thief.

The dancing only continued, as the fireworks still illuminated the docks. You turned to Hyunjin once again, whose hands encircled your waist still. 

As you moved slowly along to the music, the man dipped his face, settling his forehead against yours. His erratic breathing mixed with yours. “I am...so happy to have met you, witch,” he whispered to you. 

Your heart, if it was not already in the clouds, now elevated to seventh heaven. “You’re not so terrible yourself, thief.”

It was his answering smile which had him pulling you closer again, finding paradise in your arms as you and your friends danced the night away under the fireworks.

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (06)

word count; 11,884

summary; after a startling experience, you seek and receive comfort from the last person you would’ve expected to turn to.

notes; I will literally be taking the stairs for the rest of my life.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to panic attacks.

Placing your foot up on the dashboard, your body swerved to the side as Newt flung around a corner, and you cursed loudly, turning to look at him as you held onto the laces of your shoes. “You know, for an ambulance driver, you drive like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” He gasped falsely, and you continued trying to tie up your laces, before swapping over to the other foot, and doing that one too. “I promise, I would never hurt you.”

The tone in his voice made you groan, rolling your eyes at the snickering boy beside you as he chuckled away to himself, and you reached out to flick at him roughly on his side. He yelped, swerving a little as he drove, before he was chastising you for your behaviour and following the bright red fire trucks ahead of you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re seriously going to keep pretending like something wasn’t happening there?”

“I’m not pretending, because nothing was happening!” You huffed your words out a little, placing your foot back onto the ground of the van and adjusting yourself in the seat. The inner city was beginning to grow around you, shorter buildings that formed houses growing in size and stature, towering over you now in a concrete jungle as you approached the large city building you’d been called to.

“I know my best friend, okay? And I like to think that I’m getting to know you, too.” His words held a slightly teasing air to them, woven into his tone subtly, and you sighed at him.

“You’ve been saying this for a week now, but nothing happened!” He shot you a look, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second, but one of his brows was raised, and there was a smirk on his face that made your head fall back into your seat, and you realised you were fighting a losing battle. “We were talking about the argument, and agreeing to start over, without bitching at one another, I thought you’d be happy about it!”

“So, where did holding hands factor into that equation?”

“We weren’t holding hands! We were shaking hands!” A laugh left him, disbelieving and unconvinced and he began to slow down, pulling up in front of a very professional looking building, a large logo printed across the glass of the lower few floors, all of which were blacked out and reflected the light of the sun brightly. “It was just some stupid thing we did. Like, reintroducing ourselves, or whatever. Starting again.”

“And you just happened to be backed up into the kitchen counter, huh? I have a pair of eyes in my damn head, love, I saw those longing glances and the whispered conversation, and the holding of hands between you both.” He scoffed, pulling the truck up into park, and turning to look at you for only a second, speaking his next words before hopping out of the van; “Shaking hands, my arse.”

Hopping down front heaven yourself, Newt grabbed his go-bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and so you left yours where it was, simply grabbing your jacket and pulling it up your shoulders as it got a little cooler. Taking place beside him on the pavement, you nudged Newt with your elbow, before crossing your arms. “The only things you were seeing is what you’ve made up inside your head.”

He hummed under his breath, seeming to accept the statement for now, and you watched as the teams both began to unload from the fire trucks. They grouped on the pavements, staring up at the building, not bothering with any equipment except for their coats themselves, names printed across the bottoms as you all stared up at the height of the skyscraper.

The call had stated a broken elevator shaft, three people trapped inside, and in need of rescue, and so you and Newt weren’t facing much of a task. It was simply a challenge to the teams, you and Newt would patch up a few cuts on bumped heads and be there to check for concussions, but you didn’t face much of a task.

Glancing over the group, you caught honey-brown eyes, offering the man a smile in return when his lips flicked up at the sides for you, his head tipping as he offered you a soft nod of acknowledgement. The stare lingering for only a moment longer, before he was turning to check over his team, and you turned back to your partner. Newt was already staring at you, a single brow arched and a smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally seeing things.”

“It was just a smile. Will you drop it? We’re friends.” You scoffed, and he shook his head but let it go for now, and you set off to follow the firemen as they headed into the building. Following them inside, there was already a  group of people beginning to gather, the elevator doors being pried open and pinned that way with a chair, the purpose of which, you weren’t exactly sure, because if the elevator was on the ground floor, it wasn’t exactly an emergency, and you really hoped nobody was stupid enough to stick their head inside and take a look.

As you approached, a man came forwards, an older gentleman with a receding hairline that was shining with a layer of sweat, stress you presumed, and you made a mental note to check over him as his hand trembled while he came forwards, a hand pressed over his heart, and Newt shuffled beside you, tugging his bag a little further up on his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He sighed, voice more like a wheeze, and you winced, taking another scan around the crowd and relaxing just how angry they all looked, minorly put out of their way as they were forced to take the stairs or be turned away, and there was an angry group of less formally dressed citizens around the reception desk, the phone to the room echoing front he marble floors and glass walls, and you realised they must all be being turned away for appointments.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby seemed to be working perfectly, the sign above signalling for staff only, and there was a scanner beside the door, flashing from red to green as you watched a woman in a smart pencil skirt and matching blazer swipe her ID across it, before stepping inside.

“The elevator itself is stuck at the twelfth floor.”

“It’s not a problem, we can just pry the door open and bring everyone out.” Thomas shrugged, and the man let out a sigh, shaking his head a little, and wiping a hand over his forehead, and you glanced over at your partner, your brow raising a little as you subtly dipped your head towards the panicked man who’d greeted you all, and he nodded in response, agreeing that he could do with taking a quick time out to catch his breath and take his heart rate back down. “That’s the problem, you can’t get at the elevator from the twelfth floor.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“This is a block of private offices. Only certain floors are open to the public, you have to have an ID for the elevator to get to the others, that elevator only stops and opens at certain floors.” He looked like he might collapse at any moment, and you wandered away from the group, searching for a chair around the room, and finding a row of neatly set, leather-lined seats on the opposite wall, a coffee table with magazines stacked on in a makeshift waiting room, and you picked one up.

As you made your way back over, to him, placing the chair down behind him, the firefighters were grouped up, and Newt was knelt on one knee before the man, checking over him carefully, with two fingers recessed over his wrist and the other two to his neck.

“What’s happening?”

The blond looked up at you, a frown on his lips, and he rolled them together, considering his words carefully, and glancing at the manager who was practising deep breaths and counting along upon your partner’s instructions to bring his heart rate back down. “The elevator is trapped on the twelfth floor, but the closest entrance to it is the twenty-fifth?”

“Did you just say the twenty-fifth floor?” A strike of cold fear ran through you, the math being done in your mind within an instance, and you swallowed thickly. “How far did it drop from?”

“It got stuck around about the fifteenth floor and dropped about three floors, not too bad, coulda’ been worse. The brakes kicked in, but they’re not holding up so good.” Newt stood to his feet, brushing dust from his knees, and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The firemen you worked with were already beginning to separate into groups, and Thomas was twirling an ID card in his hand anxiously,  a hand rubbing over his jaw as he continued to divide up the squad team, Gally already having headed back outside to start finding equipment.  “We should head outside, we probably want to grab some emergency stuff, a board, maybe, the stretcher for sure. Three neck braces, and a monitor.”

“We can call it in while we’re out there, just in case they need to head over to Med.”

“Okay.” You rubbed a hand over your forehead, your mind spinning a little as you hung on the situation, and you let out a sigh, shaking your mind clear and nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. Boards, stretcher, all that, let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed on you for a second, before you were following after him, trailing back out to the ambulance, and you were biting on your lower lip until it was raw once again, finding yourself getting lost in a spiral of your own thoughts once again.

Gally passed you by, a lazy wink to tease you with as he held up the ropes slung over his shoulder, and your stomach churned a little as you looked at it, knowing that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help at all. Newt opened the back of the van, the ramp folding down and clanging against the road as he unclipped the bolts on the wheels, rolling the stretcher down towards you for you to receive, and you positioned it in front of you, turning it longways and beginning to undo the straps that held the cushioned padding down, to be able to thread on the blackboard for security too.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

You turned to look at your partner, realising you’d drifted again, grabbing onto the solid yellow plastic board he was holding to you, balancing it on the stretcher to create a table to place everything else on top of. “Nothing, just a bit apprehensive, I suppose.”

“For what?”

You pulled a face at him, moving to grab your own go-bag and pull it up your shoulders, making sure it was comfortably settled onto both arms this time, and beginning to unload equipment with him as you forced your mind to be occupied. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the abseiling down into the abyss of an elevator shaft that’s freaking me out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it then, huh?” You paused, turning to look up at him, confusion evident on his features, and he hopped down onto the tarmac before you, hair flopping into his face for a second, before he was blowing it away, and reaching for the ramp once again. “It’s my turn, right? You took the plunge last time, so it’s only fair I go this time.”

His tone was light, making a joke out of the situation you were both looking at, but the truth was resting strong between you in a thick layer of tension as he locked up the van, hands locking on either side of the head at the top of the stretcher, ready to push it along, and waiting for you to take the feet, but you placed a hand on his forearm gently, bringing his attention back to yours. His gaze was curious, sparkling a little as he stared at you, before the gaze was softening, flickering between remorse and pity, before finally settling on acceptance.

“It’s my turn.”

He whispered the words, and you shook your head a little, your gaze flicking down, the toes of his shoes touching against yours as he turned to face you a little more, and his shoulders slumped as he looked back up. “We both know I’m the one going down there.”

“It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have to be you. My physiotherapist cleared me; I can do it.” He sighed, flexing the knee of his injured leg subconsciously, and you chuckled a little, squeezing his arm softly.

“Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should have to. I know that it makes your leg ache when you hold heavyweights for too long, and just because you can take the pain, you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't be a very good partner, if I let you do that, would I?”

He sighed, staring at you for a moment longer, before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a smile, and he gave in, something like disappointment making itself known on his face as he tried to hide it. “You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve known me for, like, four months.”

“Ouch, the harsh sting of rejection.” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart as he faked a wound, before stepping forwards and knocking the trolley into action, prompting you to take the foot of it and guide the way. You stepped ahead of him, a hand finding the cool metal and beginning to lift it up and over the curb to the sidewalk, heading back inside of the building. There was an ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth biting down to contain your smile, the affection shown to you by your coworker making you heart race a little, and you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

You didn’t have to say it back, you hoped it was evident simply in the actions you took, the texts you shared and the jokes that were given in hushed laughter between you both, that you did love him too. You weren’t ready to say that to anyone yet, even if it was just a friend.

Jeff was holding the door open for you both in the staff elevator, helping you to gather everything inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you swallowed thickly, the numbers on the panel above the door beginning to click up. It felt wrong, to be riding in a contraption that on the other side of the building was broken, and endangering the lives of three people. Your fingers messed nervously with the straps of your backpack, listening to the men behind you shuffle as they sorted through the belongings on the stretcher, and as the box dinged and the doors laid open, you were walking through them and onto solid flooring one again, a somewhat relieved breath slipping from you.

Glancing around the scene, it had all already been commandeered, and you barely had time to process it all over the noise that was being made by the bustling teams. Gally was anchoring weights into the ground, the marble flooring cracking a little as the metal was drilled into place, before he was pushing his feet against it to test the weight, and ropes were being threaded around the beams of the upper ceiling. It was impressive, it truly was, but none of it was making you feel any better.

A collection of harnesses was laid out on the floor, an even more complex pair abandoned on the floor by the doors that were being held open by a thick rod of metal, denting from the clams wrapped around them, and you sighed, nails digging into your palms from the fists you were holding just to contain the shaking of your hands.

Staring down at the straps and bondings on the floor, you were completely lost, nudging it a little with the toe of your sneakers as you took it all in, and a deep chuckle sounded in your ear, making you jump, before you were watching a familiar head of dark brown hair dip down, picking up one of the harnesses, and picking it up, showing it to you.

“You’re gonna’ want to lose the backpack, for now, we’re wearing full-body harnesses.”

It made more sense, there hadn't been nearly this many clips and straps on the one you'd worn last time, and you let your bag slide down your arms clattering on the floor loudly. Picking it up and mimicking the way the lieutenant before you was holding it, he crouched won, spreading it out on the ground before himself, waiting for you to mimic the actions, and it began to look less like a pile of fabric scars and more like something slightly reassuring the more you adjusted it.

Four circles became evident, adjustable straps on them, and a belt that would clip around your waist with a set of match straps that would all connect elsewhere over your body. He stepped into the first two, and you took a deep breath, every action taking you closer into literally throwing yourself down into an elevator shaft with nothing but a rope to keep you alive.

Matching him, you placed your feet inside of the circles, before reaching down to the ground behind yourself to find the other two circles, holding onto them tightly and beginning to inch the contraception up your body The gem of your trousers caught for a second, and you shook your leg, adjusting it all back down comfortably, before you were hooking your first arm through the strap, the band on your right coming up to sit on your shoulder, and the buttons of your shirt were catching on the fabric, stiff and uncomfortable work shirt, and you cursed a little under your breath at the restriction of movement that ti wall offered you.

Dropping the edge of the harness, it hung loosely at your waist, and you were thankful that you’d chosen to wear more than just a tank top under your shirt today, the chill in your apartment having promoted a long sleeve shirt, and you undid the buttons on your uniform shirt, dropping the crisp material to the ground, and trying again to adjust the harness on your arms.

Once it was on both, it was hanging limply on your body, unadjusted and unfastened, but the thick strap of material running up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades did feel strong, and make you feel a little more secure, and you tried to let your worries go, watching Thomas’ fingers fly smoothly over his front as he did up all of the clips and straps, no struggle as he was trained to do the equipment up, and you lifted each side of the belt, clipping it over your stomach, and struggling to tug the loose material through to tighten it around your waist to hold tight and secure.

“Struggling a little, there?”

“Just a bit.” You mumbled, and he grinned, lifting a hand up to take a hold of the straps on your shoulders, adjusting it better on your arms to sit comfortably and not dig into you, yet holding snugly to your skin as he fastened it all up, fingers flying over the bolts to tighten them. Hands smoothed down over your sides, checking each point of weakness, and your breath hitched a little in your throat as he did, before the backs of his fingers were smoothing over your hips, downs the fronts of your thighs, and he took a hold of each strap, the final material sitting loosely.

Gripping one in each hand, he tugged harshly, your body jerking forwards a little closer to him, a gasp as you did, before the material was tight along your thighs, and he smirked a little, eyes finding yours as his gaze trailed along the harness to make sure it was all done up correctly. “Tight enough?”

“Mhm..” You swallowed thickly, head nodding on a second’s delay, and he grinned, taking a step away from you as he reached away for the first rope. Looping or through both of the hooks on the front of your body, sealed over your ribs as he brought it all together, hooking it into the carabiner and screwing the clip up tightly. Giving it a test tug for security, you huffed a little as your body was jerked forwards towards him again, and you glared up at him weakly as he simply grinned in response to you tripping over your feet, a cheeky look on his features. “You did that on purpose.”

“What can I say? You’re just falling for me already.”

“I think I want to go back to hating you.” You grouched, and he laughed a little, doing up his own ropes, and firemen around you were putting their kit on. You knew he was distracting you, and you appreciated it, but as he pulled on a piece of headgear and adjusted the torch on top, it only made it all a little more real. Nearing the edge of the elevator shaft, you peered inside, unable to even see the box that had fallen, it was so far down, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not feeling so good about this whole height thing.”

“You’ve already down this once, you’ve got it this time, too.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, and you felt him come up to stand beside you, but you only scoffed, shaking your head. “Thomas, that was, like, fifteen feet down. This is more like one hundred feet.”

“It’s one hundred and thirty, actually.” You turned to look at him, a grimace passing over his features as pale skin over his cheeks turned a little pink, and he shook his head at himself. “I don’t know why I said that, it didn’t help, at all.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I admire you, though.” He turns you around, the two of you standing only a couple of metres away from the gap, backs to the gap as you watched the team finally be prepared, and while you knew only a few minutes had passed in this whole amount of time, with your stress, it somehow managed to feel like both seconds and hours all in one. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing this for Newt to save him the pain. I think that’s really brave.”

“I suppose so..” Your words were whispered, and he nodded his head, adjusting your hands on the rope attached to your waist as it no longer lay slack on the ground. Brenda was anchored to the ground before you, holding onto your rope as she wore her own harness, feet pressing to the metal on the ground as she took a seat. Behind her was Gally the two offering you and Thomas a nod, and Minho and Fry took up place on his side, the signal telling you that it was time to go. You grabbed your bag, lifting it onto your shoulder as Thomas pulled on his backpack, and with that, you were holding the breath your lungs as nerves took over.

“They won’t let anything happen to you, alright?” Your attention was drawn back to Thomas, and as you looked up at him, he offered a smile. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright? We’re just going to walk backwards slowly, keep your eyes on me, and as we go over the edge, keep your feet on the ground.”

You nodded your head, nothing but honesty and compassion in his eyes as he made you a silent promise to keep you safe, and your hand twitched a little as you felt fingers smooth over your palm. His hand took yours, squeezing tightly as his fingers wrapped over the back of your hand, and you held onto him tightly, before following his guidance, and taking a step back.

You did as told, keeping your eyes locked with his, slow and cautious steps, and your breathing only picked up in rent as the feeling dragging your body down changed.

Your feet were teetering on the precipice of the shaft, wobbling a little, and you snapped back to look at Brenda, everything suddenly feeling unsafe again, and you froze up. “Hey, hey, c’mon! Look at me, eyes on me, remember?”

You choked up, feeling the squeezing around our hand, and you looked down, fingers wrapped warmly around your hand, and you wondered if he could feel how hard your blood was pumping through your veins and how fast your heart was racing right now. Looking back up to him, honey-coloured eyes were fixed on you, and he squeezed again, nodding his head.

“Just look at me, okay? You’ve got this.”

His brows raised a little, and you force yourself to take a breath, following after him and lifting one foot, placing it at an unusual angle as your leg bent, foot pressing flat to the wall on the inside of the elevator shaft, and as your other followed, you let out a soft sound, something between fear and relief at taking the first step.

“You’re doing so good.” His words were whispered, a few more steps being taken as you began to inch your way down into the darkness, slowly gaining a pace as you began to gain confidence in your movements.

The further down you got, the darker it got, surrounding you as you began to lose your vision. Slowly, it all faded away, until you could barely even see the rope in front of your face, and you couldn't hold the gaze of the man beside you anymore, the darkness shrouded around you. The elevator shaft above you that was the only thing that now connected you to everyone else was simply a sliver of light, and the temperature had dropped rapidly within the cold metal tunnel, making you shiver a little as only your undershirt remained on your body.

The hand wrapped around yours loosened, and you held on for a second, before he was tugging it back, your movements coming to a halt for a second as you hesitated, before releasing him, and your hands fumbled to find the rope in front of your body, wobbling a little bit as you searched for something else to hold onto, your breath hitching in your throat as your food scraped a little against the wall, and you fell forward.

Catching yourself against the wall before you smashed into it too solidly, you grunted, a slight spark of pain running along your wrist, and you winced as bright light filled your vision, Thomas messing with the head torch on his forehead, lighting up the small bubble of air around the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s alright, just needed some light.” The radio on his shoulder crackled, checking whether he was okay as the two ropes stopped lowering you both down, and he looked below himself, the metal of the elevator reflecting back to you, only thirty feet or so from you now, and he looked back up, raising his brows. “Look how close we are, you’ve come so far, look at that.”

You swallowed thickly, not daring to look down, shaking your head adamantly as you hung in the air, gripping onto the rope, lips pursed and blood running cold. The radio crackled again, and he lifted his hand, pressing the button on the side to continue lowering you down slowly, and you opened your mouth to protest, fear washing over your once again as the ropes jerked, but you were being shushed slowly.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day you ran into that burning building?”

“Not really. I remember a lot of yelling, that's about it.” You mumbled, a tremor in your voice, and Thomas chuckled, his hands finding your ankles and lifting them up, placing your feet flat against the wall, and forcing you to take the proper stance once again.

“Well, I remember. I was yelling at you, being scary, and you told me that we saved a life. You didn't take any of my shit, and then you called me out on it all, but you made me look past our actions to the life we saved. Sometimes I forget to do that, and you made me realise.” You huffed, the joke he’d slipped in there making you roll your eyes, and you took a step with one foot, regaining your momentum again as one of his hands smoothed over your clasped palms, holding onto your hands tightly as he used one on his own rope. “We’re going to go and save some lives, you’re going to save some lives, and I’m just here to help you. You need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes coming back as you dared to look up at him, catching his gaze in the brought light for only a second, before he was nodding his head. “When we get down there, it’s going to be a little scary again, alright? I need you to stand on the top of the box while I open the hatch, and I’ll go down first. I’ll help you inside, but the rope is going to go slack, because they’re going to give you enough space to move around. You think you can handle that?”

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, not quite having faith in yourself yet, but forcing your heart rate to calm down with every deep breath to steady your nerves, before you were finally beginning to trust yourself. The elevator became clearer, the staining on the wall of an old set of numbers, a faded ‘12’ on the wall, before you were stretching your legs out underneath yourself and finding the metal of the elevator to land on.

Just as Thomas promised, he gave your hands a final squeeze, before he was stepping back and tugging on the rope to let them know that you’d both landed. Just like that, the pressure of the pull holding you up went slack, extra rope pooling around your feet, and it only looked to be around ten foot worth of material.

“Not a lot to work with.”

He glanced up, looking at the rope that had gone spare as you were suddenly dependent on your own two feet without support, and he indeed his head. “Ropes are one hundred and fifty feet, but they need at least ten foot of rope to work with up there, and we’re close to a hundred and fifty feet down.”

You shuddered a little, that fact along bringing panic surging back, and your arms wrapped around yourself. The torchlight was overwhelmed by the flickering light on the inside of the elevator when the hatch came loose, the panicked crying of a young girl and the shushing from her mother sounding out, before Thomas was switching off his headlight.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” You watched, the ay her face peeled back form recessed into her mother’s shoulder, tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but the badge on Thomas’ uniform and the smile on his face made her trust him, the soft nod she gave him being enough to get them to step back towards the edges as he lowered his feet inside.

The cage shook as he landed, a sharp intake of breath that made your head spin as you panicked for just a second, before Thomas was calling out to you, and you were taking tentative steps over to the edge of the hatch. The lieutenant was staring up at you, nodding his head, and reaching up to tap at the edge of the hatch.

“Legs first, I’ve got you, just drop down.”

Choking down the lump in your throat, you tried to blink away the thin line of tears you held, knowing you needed to be brave for the people on the inside of the elevator. This was your job, you were saving lives, you were inspiring a young girl, and you were damn well going to be proud of yourself for it.

Taking a seat carefully, your legs swung over the edge, shuffling a little until your hands were pressed to the opposite side, and his hands were wrapping gently around your calves, stopping your legs from the swinging motions they’d been taking. You focused on that, on the touch of his fingertips into your muscle instead, the way he was holding onto you tightly, reassurance, instead of the way you were risking dropping down into a metal deathtrap over a hundred feet down from where you were being held up by just two people and a metal anchor.

Inching forwards again, you lowered yourself over as the metal under yourself slipped away, those same hands smoothing a little further up your body, until you were lowering yourself down by your upper arms. Smoothing over your hips, his hands found your waist, burning hot through the thin material of your shirt, and lowering you down until your feet found the ground, a small sigh slipping from you as you took a minute to control your fears.

“I told you, I got you.”

Your eyes cracked open, looking up to find honey-brown eyes fixed on you, and you offered him a small smile, taking a deep and calming breath, before turning to face the family before you, and his touch fell away. “Okay, let's get you all checked out, huh?”

The little girl nodded, and you peeled your backpack from your arms, placing it down and crouching beside it to open it up, watching as the child, who couldn't be any older than ten sank to her knees before you. As she did, the front of the mother was relieved to you, large and swollen, a pregnancy that was early third trimester or late second, and your actions paused as you tried to assess the next course of action.

Thomas had brought spare harnesses, and yet there were no spare ropes, you could hear him behind you as he worked, setting up the next set to be equipped, but there was no way that you would be able to carry a woman that far along in a tandem harness without posing a risk to the child. Turning back to look at him as you snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, his brows raised at you, pausing what he was doing for a second to look over, and his jaw dropped a little, the anticipated addition clearly bringing his mind to a short-circuited halt.

Your focus went back to the young girl, the mother now with a hand resting over her stomach, and the father was sitting in the corner, popped up against the wall, eyes a little half-lidded and a cut on his forehead, but he was lucid, and so you knew he’d be alright to wait until his family was checked out.

“Okay, this light is going to be a little bright okay, I just need you to follow it with your eyes for me, can you do that?” She nodded, and you put on the best smile that you could, before clicking the light on the end of the torch and lifting it up. Dragging it slowly from left to right across her vision, you monitored the speed at which her pupils flexed, and how capable she was of tracking the source. Returning it the other way, you watched for the same signs. Up, and down, she was alright, and you ran your fingers gently over her head for signs of bleeding or bruising, feeling under her hair for swelling. “You’re doing so good! You’re even braver than I am!”

“I cried a lot, I’m not brave.”

She sighed sadly, her mother reaching out to place a comforting hand on her head and brush her hair out of her face gently, and you leaned in a little closer, offering her a smile. “That’s okay, I wanted to cry on the way down here, too. But, you see the firefighter behind me?” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes flicking over him for a second, before she nodded. “He’s great at this, he’s the bravest, and he’s going to get you back up to the top, okay? He’ll help you put a harness on, and then you’re going to do some climbing, think you can do that?”

She hesitated, before a look of determination was passing over her face, and she stood on weak and unsteady legs, before rounding to him. His voice faded into the background, deep and soothing as he began to get the young girl roped up, and she would undoubtedly be fastened to his chest, so that he could climb back up with her, brushing your knees off a little as you stood to talk to the mother.

“How are you feeling? Any unusual headaches, blurred vision, whiplash?” She shook her head whispering her ‘no’ on a hoarse through, and you felt awful for what she’d had to endure today, the rhythmic pattern of her hand rubbing circles over her stomach, soothing you both, and she traced the flashlight with her eyes just as commanded, and there was no delayed reaction in her responses either, all showing up with a good sign. “How about the baby, anything you want to ask?”

“No, I know my little one is alright.” She cracked a smile now, and you raised a brow at her, the hand on her stomach leaving her bump to take your wrist, pushing her cardigan out of the way until just a cotton t-shirt was covering her, and she placed your palm flat over her skin. You waited for a second, before a sharp jolt pressed to your palm, and she winced a little, the hard kick from within making you chuckle. “He’s doing just fine. If anything, he’s mad he didn’t get his lunch yet, we had reservations that we’ve missed.”

“Well, you’ve got a little fighter in there, huh?”

“You can say that again.” She teased, wrapping herself back up warmly, and you did a quick scan over what of her you could see.

“My boy is going to be a football star with energy like that.” The father grinned, wheezing a little on his words as he pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and your attention turned to him. Before you could move onto him, though, a hand was wrapping around your forearm, tugging you back slightly, and you turned to face Thomas. He pulled you aside, to the edge of the elevator, as much privacy as you were going to get, but his back was to the family, leaning down low, and voice barely a whisper;

“We’re not going to be able to get her in a harness. You’re going to have to climb back up on your own with the mother and the girl, and come back to me with the harnesses.”

It was a reasonable decision, but the longer you waited, the more at risk of a concussion the father was growing to, the cut on his had needing attending to as blood beaded along his hairline and dripped in a single steady path along his skin, a red trail left in its wake before it was sliding down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt, his head leaning a little to the side.

“No, I think you have to be the one to go.”

He shook his head, a frown taking over his lips. “No, no, absolutely not. I can’t leave you down here witho-” Your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it delicately and squeezing a little, bringing him to silence as he glanced down, before his eyes were searching through yours as he tried to understand. “You’re terrified, though.”

“I know, but I’m saving lives, remember?” The edges of his lips flicked up a little, a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched, before he was looking over his shoulder to the father as you nodded your head a little. “He needs medical attention, and you need to take the girl and the mother back up. I’ll wait right here, and you just get back to me as soon as you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, watching as your hands went to the straps of your harness, beginning to undo them as you looked down, trying to work them all out. He sighed, his own hands moving to begin undoing the clips and seals quickly, helping you to loosen the safety equipment, until it could drop down your arms and pool at the floor. Stepping out of it, you gave a final squeeze to his arm, nodding your head. “I got this.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You grinned a little, stepping away from him, and the mother looked between you both, worry in her eyes, and you let Thomas do the explaining once again, as he loosened all of the straps and adjusted the harness to be able to take her weight securely without harming the baby she was growing.

As soon as she was fastened into it, he was pulling on her rope, fastening his hands and crouching down to be able to give her a boost, lifting her up to be able to climb out from the hatch and onto the roof of the elevator. Her footsteps were loud and clanging for a moment, before they were gone, and she was clearly on her way of climbing up back to safety, taking your only escape route with her, and you felt like you were going to suffocate on your fears.

Thomas’ gaze caught yours, worried and unsure, his jaw dropping, but there was nothing he could say, knowing that this was the best way to go about it, and instead, he dropped his head in a single nod.

“I’ll be back for you real soon, alright?”

You gave him the most convincing smile you could muster, before he was telling the little girl to jump up, lifting her until she could sit on the edge of the box, and he followed as soon as she was clear, her legs out of the way. As he jumped, the box creaked a little, the force of his movements making it shake, and your eyes went wide, body tensing up, fear once again surging through your system, before Thomas was disappearing too.

The pair lingered for an extra few moments, and you knew that he was making sure the girl was properly attached to him, all secures done up tightly, before their footsteps faded too, and you were left alone, nobody to catch you this time.

Taking a seat on the floor beside the father, his eyes studied you for a tense moment, before he was offering you a supportive smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m just as scared as you are.”

You offered him the most reassuring look you could, trying to use it for your own relaxation too, and you started by running your hand gently along the back of his neck, a hiss leaving his lips as you did, and you paused all movements.

“Sorry, your hands are cold.”

“You’re lethal, do you know that?” You mumbled, lips quirking up at the sides, and you shook your head, your fingers twitching against his neck as you got back to work, and he let out a weak chuckle. “No more noises like that unless you’re in pain, or you know something wrong, alright?”

He closed his eyes, head barely moving in a nod, but it was enough to secure his confirmation, and you began the movement of your fingers along his neck once again. He didn’t make those sounds, keeping his promise, but he did wince and pull the occasional faces as you moved, the swelling frowning around the tissue and the tense feeling under the tips of your fingers being slightly concerning, but not enough to be an immediate concern. When you were finished, you placed a palm on the back of his neck, cupping carefully and lifting your thumb to press into the back of his head.

Pulling his head forwards, you placed the softly cushioned support of the neck brace behind his head, the plastic holding strong as you lay his head back into it and as you released him, finding it holding secure, you brought the front around carefully. The straps hung loose, and you adjusted it under his chin, holding his head up at the correct angle, and just like it always did with patients, a small sigh of relief left him he was no longer tasked with holding up the weight of his own head.

Placing it over his shoulders, you tightened the straps, fastening them correctly, and letting out a little sigh as one job was checked off of your list. You moved onto testing his reactions next, and bringing up the flashlight to look into his eyes, studying him. His reactions were slower than you would have liked, his pupils dilating with a paused reaction and it was sluggish in his movements, but he was able to clearly react to the light, tracing it in all dimensions, and to read the title of the notice on the other side of the elevator clearly, no blurring present.

Lifting your gaze to the cut across his forehead, you pushed back the slightly blood-matted hair of his fringe, dirty-blonde hair going a murky red-brown at the tips, and you lifted it out of the way, tucking it back in hopes that it would stay, the strands sticking up unevenly.

Pressing around the edges, and watching the consistency and speed of the blood flow, it wasn’t too bad, slow and somewhat clotted as it tried to repair itself, darker in colour as the fresh blood under the surface began to flow the way it should, and it was simply a laceration.

“Skin wound, nothing too serious. I’ll get it cleaned up for you, won’t even need stitches. Looks way worse than it is.”

“Stings like a bitch, though.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, then.” You warned him, holding up the small foil packet with an antiseptic wipe sealed inside of it, and tearing it open. Letting the wrapper flutter away to the floor, a loud groan left his lips, ones that tails of into a whiny noise as you wiped over his skin, his hands becoming fists by his sides, before he bit down on his tongue to try and contain the noises, lips sealing shut, and a grunt rounding it out. “I’m sorry, Mr, uh..”

“You can just call me Clint.”

“I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not all that fun, but it’s a hell of a lot worse than a skin infection, that’s for sure. You’d hate it if this thing got gross and had to be scraped clean.” He grimaced a little at the idea, and you knew the feeling. On more than one occasion, you’d been called out to a call for a person who hadn't called for an original injury, and were now at risk of collapsing, passing out and omitting and sometimes even spasming when the infection got too bad. You hated those trips, when you arrived and tried to work out what was wrong, only to find a finger on one hand completely discoloured and flowing with pus from a simple cooking accident, or a scratch from a pet that hadn't been cared for and was now oozing and bruised. “All done, now, okay?”

You cleared down along his skin, doing the best you could to wipe the dried blood away from his skin and help him to feel a little bit cleaner, and he mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you did. Putting down the wipe and searching through the small plastic box on the floor that you had open, you found the half-empty and folded tube of cream to apply to it, squeezing some onto the tip of your finger, and warming it by rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger to warm it, before smoothing the healing solution over his skin.

Just as you were screwing the top back on, you flinched, pausing for a second as you tried to listen out to see whether you’d heard correctly, and much more clearly this time, your name was bouncing from the walls of the elevator shaft.

Peeling your gloves from your hands and dropping them down to the floor in a ball, you studio up, brushing the dust staining your pants away from your knees, and moving to stand underneath the hatch in the elevator roof.

“Thomas?”

“Yep, that’s me.” You squinted as bright light flashed in your eyes, the light swinging a little from side to side as Thomas moved, but as you peered out into the darkness, you couldn't see anything except for the swinging little spot of the torch. “How’s he lookin’ in there? He going to be able to get in a harness?”

“It’s not ideal, but I think if we climb carefully, we’ll be just fine.” Your voice cracked a little with the sudden shout, but you offered the man a small smile, turning to look at him. “We’re good, right. Clint?”

“We’re great, kiddo.” He mumbled, holding up a weak hand with a thumb stuck up, and you grinned, a reassuring nod for both of you.

“Glad to hear it.” The torch disappeared from your sight once again, and you figured he was looking up, back to the elevator shaft entrance that was obscured from your view, and you twisted your head away as he looked back, the light catching your eyes again, stinging at your retinas. “You’ve both done real good today, we’re almost through with it all. I just need you to come out and grab the harness that Brenda is lowering down beside me, so you can drop it through the hatch.”

“Uh, come out as in on top of the elevator?”

“Can you handle that? I’m only two or three floors away, but if you can get yourself roped up first, it’ll save a lot of time.” It made sense, it was logical, and you didn’t want to be down here any longer than necessary, because, despite the bravery taking you over, you were still in a broken metal box that was hanging precariously at thirteen floors above where it should be, with no safety measures in operation.

“I can do it.”

He gave some kind of reply, something you didn’t catch as you stared up at the entrance of the hatch, the sighs around you becoming clearer as you began to notice the grungy grey walls that were coming into clarity as Thomas’ silhouette got closer and closer to you. Lifting your hands up, you were only a few inches shy of the roof, and pushing off of the floor, the elevator creaked a little in a way that made your stomach twist, but you gripped onto the edge, and you were able to hold on.

As you swung in the air, it wasn’t too much to handle, but your arms trembled as you tried to pull yourself up, not having enough strength to do so, and you dropped back down, the box around you rattling as you did, a grunt leaving your lips as a shock ran along your leg, a jolt of pain at landing on it awkwardly, a flash of heat following it.

“What did you just do?”

“I tried to climb out?” You shouted back, not understanding the rushed sound to his voice, before there was a loud screeching sounding out, and the ground beneath you moved by a few inches, before coming to another solid stop, your arms flying out around you in a panic.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move even a step!”

“I’m not! I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to at this point!” There was a shake in your voice, nausea filling you once again and your entire body was tensed painfully tight, fear taking over again. “What’s happening?”

“It shifted. The movements made it come loose, but it's alright.” He was closer, voice no longer needing to shout as much as he near you, and you could now pick out the colours on the logo of his shirt, and the outlines of his features, close enough now that you could speak without shouting. “Just stay real still, and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” You took a shaky breath, running your breathing routines in your head as you tried to calm yourself down, and you turned on your spot, slowly and carefully to face your patient. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, we will.” He sounded just as scared as you, but the fatherly-instinct within him was prompting him to calm you, even though that was what you should be doing for him, and you hummed.

What couldn't have been anything longer than a minute passed you by, before the box you were in was creaking again, a shudder running under your feet that travelled along your spine, chilling your blood instantly in your veins, and your head snapped up. “Thomas?”

“It’s moving again, I’m ri-”

The box shifted, dropping once again, and you felt bile rise in your throat as your feet left the ground for a moment, feeling the air whipping around you.

There was no sound, you couldn't even muster a scream, the entire event happening so quickly that you barely even had time to process it as the fear in your body made you feel like you were blacking out. Your grip on everything slipped away, the lights inside of the box flashing, and then, just like that, you were finding gravity once again.

You collided with the floor roughly, the side of your body aching as you hit against it, the side of your head throbbing angrily only a split second later, and your vision was spotting. It was like a weight sitting on your chest, unable to breathe, fingertips digging into the floor as you tried to support yourself, and push yourself up to sitting up. Your ears were ringing a little, your hand coming up to smack at the side of your head as you knocked yourself back to consciousness and forced your senses to realign, shaking off the dizziness to look around.

Clint had keeled over, eyes wide as he now lay on the floor, his eyes searching for yours, and a groan left you as you rolled over onto your hands and knees, gasping and spluttering for breath as your head spun, an array of different aches raising along your body, and you made your way over to him. Kneeling back and sitting on your heels, you adjusted him carefully, laying him on his back and thank your earlier self that you’d already applied a neck brace to the man, keeping him safe there, and he lay out, staring up at the dimly flickering lights.

“Thomas?” Words came out croaky, your throat sore and dry, the pain of holding in tears as you tried to be the strong one making it painful to talk, and you cleared your throat, trying again to call out to him. “Lieutenant?”

“Oh, thank fucking God. Are you okay?” There was a panicked rush to his voice, and you patted yourself down a little, running your gaze over the man before you, and licking at dry lips to stop them from cracking.

“We’re both still in one piece.” He was far away once again, the light dimmer and his voice more distant, and it only scared you more, making you feel alone, and like you were sitting on a ticking time bomb. “How far did we drop?”

“Uh..” He paused, the lights flashing around the tunnel for a moment, before it was disappearing again. “You’re somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor.”

“Okay, how long until you get to us?”

“I can’t.” The silence was thick between you, the tone in his voice conveying exactly how he felt, and it matched your own mood exactly. Helpless, scared, alone, frustrated, the list could go on, and you pressed down roughly with your nails into your palms, hands shaking as you tried to hold it together. “The ropes can’t get that far down. “Minho and Fry are going to pull me back up, Newt is on his way to the sixth floor, and so are the rest of the truck and squad team. We’re going to have to pull down the wall, okay? They’re already on their way.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just hold on, and be brave. Can you do that? For me?” You absolutely could not, everything inside of you was rattled and terrified, and you were barely holding it together, but you didn’t want him panicking either, and so you held the trembling in your body off long enough to give him a smooth response;

“Yeah. I’ll manage. Just hurry, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle, empty and weak but it was there, and he agreed, the sound barely reaching your ears as it made its way down the dark elevator shaft. “I’m already on my way to come and get you, I promise.”

Looking back down and around you, the possessions from your bag were scattered around, and you lowered yourself down to the hands and knees, inching your way down slowly until you could reach out around yourself, scarcely crawling at all when you needed to, until you were beginning to gather up the possessions that belonged there. Packing away the kit, you sealed it all up, making sure you didn’t construct any sudden movements, and beginning to pack up your bag.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, what you assumed would be loud shouts was almost a whisper through the layers of metal, concrete and scaffolding, but the cracking and splintering of drywall soon followed it, and you let out a sigh of relief. Packing away the various containers and boxes inside of your bag, you zipped it up, pushing it over to sit in the corner beside where the doors would open, and rocking back to sit with your legs folded before you, hands holding you up.

A hand felt out along the floor, a calloused palm patting the back of your hand gently, before settling over it to squeeze, and the dam inside of you broke. A sob left you, loud and freeing as the tears you’d been blinking away finally formed fully, and leaked along your cheeks in large droplets, a shake moving along your entire body as you did.

He squeezed once again, sitting with you quietly as you gasped for breath, letting out the terrifying mixture of emotions with you. He was shushing you quietly, and you wanted to laugh at how the roles had been reversed, how it as supposed to be you comforting and helping him, but you couldn't help him, breaking down with the overwhelming terror of the situation you were trapped in.

The sounds outside of the elevator were getting louder, voices becoming clearer, and you could hear the clattering made by chunks of the wall being ripped away and scattered across the tiled flooring of the executive building, but you didn’t care, because you had been keeping everything bottled up for so long that you were unable to hold it back any longer, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Your lungs were once again burning for breath, head spinning and heart racing and you took gasping intakes of air, swallowing down only to splutter and hiccup as you tried to exhale, and the man beside you never said a word, his hand rubbing soothingly over yours beside you on the floor as he tried to remain steady, much in the same way you were.

“I’m so sorry.” Your words were broken up and stuttered, and you tried to get a grip on yourself, wiping at your cheeks and hating how your eyes were stinging, throat raw, feeling like you’d swallowed a ball of fire from the burning within, and you felt like claustrophobia might be a fear you now had to add onto your list, the walls of the box seeming to get smaller and smaller.

Like some kind of blessed relief, there was banging against the doors of the elevator, a tap of a knock, and Chuck’s voice was ringing through to you loud and clear, asking if you were alright. Leaning forwards and pressing your hand to the cold metal, a chuckle of ecstatic relief was released.

“We’re okay, Chuck. You guys planning to get these doors open for us soon?”

There was no verbal response, but instead, a second later, the doors were cracking open, the slight humming of the set of spreaders as it was cracked open, a sliver of natural light piercing through from the lobby, and you caught sight of is flushed cheeks and darker brown curls, a worried face that was trying to ease you by smiling. “Soon enough for you?”

You nodded your head, before he was being pushed aside, blonde coming into view, and as the gap widened enough, you could make him out. His brows were furrowed, a guilty look on his face as he met your gaze, and you shook your head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Newt.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, one of his hands slipping up to rest on the edge of the elevator, his head at the same height as yours when you leaned down, only the bottom third of the elevator actually making it onto the sixth floor, the rest still raised above. Reaching down and resting your hand over his, he frowned even further, the gap almost wide enough for you to get to work, but the elevator was shuddering a little again at the action, and you pushed Newt’s hand away, just in case, squeezing it before letting go.

“Just so you know, I love you, too. You’re the best friend, like, ever. Even if sometimes I hate it.” His lips flicked up at that, and he nodded his head, before you were glancing away just for a second, he whispered conversation only needing to be shared between the two of you. Grabbing your med-bag and pushing it through the door gap, he took it, accepting it and dropping or down. “I’m going to need the board, and you need to be ready to go. As soon as he’s out, get to the ambo’, okay?”

“You’ll call once you’re out too, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You swore it, and he backed away, preparing the blackboard to be slid up to you, holding it over his head as the gap finally became wide enough, and you backed out of the space to be able to receive it. As you rolled out of the way, the elevator creaked again, dropping a couple more centimetres, and you swallowed thickly, annoying the straps as quickly as you could.

There was so much commotion going on outside of the elevator, your mind spinning as you tried to focus, and you heard Brenda and Gally arriving, clearly having pulled out their anchor and received their ropes, and you laid the plastic board out carefully beside Clint.

“Okay, there’s normally two of us for this, so I’m going to need your help here, okay?” He hummed, his eyes finding yours, a look flashing through that told you he understood, and you placed a hand flat under his shoulder and hip. “I’m going to roll you, and I need you to tense up, hold it for as long as you can, and I’ll push the board under you, then, when you roll back, try to shuffle onto it, okay?”

He did as told, his body going tense, despite the pain it caused as he winced, and you rolled him over onto his side as much as you could alone. Freeing one hand from his body, you pushed the board under him, and as he rolled back down, he groaned, but the shuffle had worked, because he sat squarely in the middle of the bard where he should be, and you wasted no time.

Pulling the first strap over his waist tightly, you did it up, sealing him down, and moving to the one over his chest. Once there were secure, you wrapped one over the top of his head grinning a little as he stared up at you, holding his head still, before you were tracing along his feet and arms, doing up every fasten you could think of for his safety. “You ever been crowd surfing, Clint?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Your joke was well-received, barely a second of silence before he was letting out a pained chuckle, and you looked back to the door. Gally and Winston were first, stood on either side and ready to receive the board, lifting him carefully above their heads to lower him down, and Newt had raised the trolley up as high as it could go in order to collect him.

You held in your grunt of pain at the exertion of sliding the board across the floor, hearing the scraping of the plastic along the ground, before the elevator was shaking again. Their hands sealed around the end, and the pressure was taken off of you as it began to inch out further and further again, letting them pull it as more bodied came to join, more hands stabilising the mix, and the movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

The opposite elevator opened up, carrying the final three bodies; Minho, Frypan and Thomas. You could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of your team were all safe, with their feet flat on the ground and not dangling precariously hundreds of feet off the ground. The former two raced forwards, each hooking onto the stretcher board and helping to pull it the rest of the way out, and then, he was disappearing from your sights, strapped to the stretcher and ready to be wheeled away.

A final glance from Newt, a nod of your head, and then honey-coloured eyes were filling your vision as Thomas popped up in front of you. The sudden change it weight and all the added movement was making it unstable once again, his jaw dropping, mind seemingly going blank, and you gripped onto the edges of the doors as it trembled, tipping a little to one side as metal ground against concrete, the ropes on one side of the elevator beginning to give way and snap, the subtle sounds of the metal fraying sounding in your ears as small cables began to tinker on the metal roof as they fell free.

“You need to get out, like, now.”

You could only nod, trying to adjust yourself on the tilted angle to swing your legs through the gap, and you got one out, before the lift was jerking again, dropping down to become even, and the metal was caving under its own weight. “Oh, fuck it.”

A large hand found your ankle, tugging you forwards, your body jerking at the motion and the lift moved too, but before it could drop away, another hand was finding your waist, tugging you free, and you tumbled forwards enough to stumble as you dropped down the gap, but you never landed on the ground. That same hand dragged along your body as he fell back a little from the impact, holding you up the hand from your calf found your back and the hand from your hip was circling under your arms to hold onto you tightly, staggering backwards and away from the danger.

When your feet found the floor again, your toes were brushing against it, before your entire body was sagging into Thomas’, knees going weak, and you were relying upon him to hold you up everything seemed to go numb all at once. Your head fell forwards, too heavy to even hold up as your eyes fluttered closed, and your forehead pressed into his shoulder as you let him support you entirely, legs buckling underneath you.

The arms around you only tightened, the one under your arms relaxing to simply hold you, fingers spreading as his hands sat between your shoulder blades, and he rubbed slowly, the hug unexpected, but exactly what you needed, and your hands moving around him too, bunching in the back of his shirt as you took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life.

“Told you I was coming to get you.”

You could only laugh, a pathetic sound that barely made itself known in response to the words he’d whispered in your ears, but it didn’t matter, because you were soon being pulled back, Thomas’ hold on your dropping down to simply having a hand settled on your lower back as Brenda cupped your cheeks, wiping away any residual wetness sphere with her thumbs, before shaking her head.

“You scared the shit outta’ me.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t all that fond of the experience, either.” You muttered, a wave of laughter going up around you, from the other team members, and you jumped a little at the creaking of metal once again, the box dropping a foot or so further down. Reaching behind your back, to the hand that was still rubbing motions that were barely detectable into your skin, you took his wrist, pulling it away from you as he paused upon the contact.

You couldn’t keep up with the conversation around you, questions and observations about it all being thrown at you, but you could focus on the way Thomas had been able to calm you down so well before, and how you needed a little more of that now. Taking his hand in your own, just like he had done when you’d still been in your harness, you breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around your palm in welcome return.

There was still a lot to be done, the job here was far from over, but right now, you were taking a pause to let yourself calm down, and as Thomas squeezed your hand in comfort, you squeezed back.

[haztory]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

--erwin smith x reader; fluff, domestic, not canon compliant farmer erwin, there’s a mentioning of injuries but not enough to be considered graphic! (erwin lives!)

a.n: this is my attempt at swinging back into the ways of writing after a long, long, long hiatus! i wrote this in thirty minutes as just an exercise, but felt it was cohesive enough to post. its vague, abstract, and definitely not a magnum opus, but its something. this is more of an erwin story than an x reader one, but i hope you all enjoy regardless!

this was titled after a song on the pride and prejudice ost of the same name. highly recommend you give it a listen

anything for my sweet boy erwin ♡

(w.c: 1686)

At the initial prospect of it, retirement was somewhat akin to shooting oneself in the foot for a man like Erwin. It was condescending, debilitating, almost an insult were he any lesser than a reasonable man.

The word was floated around numerous times after the loss of his arm, spoken with a gentleness and, dare he say, a trepidation they believed must be adopted when speaking to the freshly injured man. For fear of upsetting him or for fear of making the situation real, he’s not quite sure. It was mentioned, nonetheless. In passing, directly, through implication; Everyone seemed to think that Erwin was less of a man and more of a liability because of his lost arm, and that retiring from the Scout Regiment would be the best option for everyone. 

That was something he took offense to. 

His physical abilities may be considerably limited now, yes, but he still holds inherent value to the cause he’s dedicated his life to. Still has goals, still has dreams, still has ideas that must be discussed and implemented if the fate of humanity is to even think about surviving beyond the next few days. 

Erwin still had some fight in him, and he still had things to offer. Things that retirement would take away from him.

The word settled like a thick tar on his tongue and left a bitter aftertaste, one he couldn’t bear to swallow down. So he didn’t. He spit the word back out, removing it from his mouth and sternly asking others to rid themselves of it too. They followed his order, albeit begrudgingly, but the conversation ended then and there. Not permanently, unfortunately. No amount of power, Erwin imagines, could ever snuff out the growing fear his missing appendage has instilled in his soldiers. That even the most untouchable, unshakeable of leaders could be tainted by this cruel world. 

He knows it's on everyone's mind, no matter how many times he can try to assuage the fears, for if the exchanged uneasy glances between his eccentric Section Commander and trusted Captain were anything to go by, then the fear his cadets must feel must be traumatizing. The looks they pass to one another when they think he isn’t looking.

Erwin lost an arm, not his intuition. It seems he’s the only one who knows that. 

But they let it go. They all do, for now at least. They reluctantly put a pin at his assertion that he would continue his work, regardless of injury, and quickly filed this topic as one they would return to at a later date. Appease him now to make him more receptive to the future. They let him continue to work himself dry, let him continue with physical missions like he wasn’t missing a trusted appendage, and entertained his reckless and drastic thoughts to a certain extent.

When he lands himself back in the infirmary, this time with a serious rupture to the side of his stomach from flying debris, and a number of broken bones that will surely cause permanent hindrance to his mobility, the topic is brought back up again. Only this time, it’s non-negotiable. His near death was the final straw in forcing Erwin Smith into retirement. 

                                                              ∵

He hates it.

Hates how quiet his home is, hates how unexciting his routine is, hates not being able to know.

But he finds that making coffee is still manageable with one arm. The sun still shines as brightly inside the walls as it does outside. The birds still chirp excitedly in the morning and the wind still blows gently in the afternoon. 

He hates retirement, but it’s manageable. 

It gets better after a while, the presence of a neighbor making his nights substantially more interesting with the dinner she brings over. 

                                                             ∵

The house is quiet once again, only the distant chirps of the birds filling the empty space. It's familiar, but he finds it unsettling this time around. A feeling of anticipation creeping into his stomach, waiting for the other shoe to drop at any moment.

It doesn’t happen. 

With a slight furrow in his brow and after a long analyzing gaze outside the window above the kitchen sink, Erwin makes his way towards the front door, granting him access to the front porch of the house. Settled away from the city, the land his house is built on stretches for miles; Fields of green spread out before him and littered with tall, blooming and swaying trees. The chickens squawk and run around before him and the horses huff their snorts of boredom. There’s activity in the Smith residence, but it’s not the kind he’s looking for. 

There’s something missing. 

Bringing his left arm up to his mouth, he curls his fingers below his tongue, blowing out a loud and sharp whistle that has all movement still for a brief moment on his farm. All attention piqued on him, the animals and the trees alike waited for Erwin’s response. 

They wait, and they wait, and they wait. But still, nothing.

The crease between Erwin’s brows dips further. A brief flash of worry settles in his shoulders. He pulls his fingers into his mouth again, blowing a whistle that lasts for a few seconds longer this time. His eyes stay trained on the hill before him, hoping to see something. Anything.

He waits a minute before the restlessness takes over and he takes his steps down the stairs of the porch, his boots crunching against the crisp grass still wet from the morning dew. He approaches the top of the hill, the one that lays level with the foundation of his house, before surveying the land further below. He looks left and right, then left again and then right again, eyes peeled for that familiar flash of grey.

Where in the world could that damn dog have gone?

The dog is usually fast enough to return before he even needs to whistle a second time, never straying too far from the property for her to not hear Erwin’s call. But this time is different. She’s gone and isn’t returning to him and that can only mean one thing.

Trouble.

He begins his trek down the hill, the morning still early enough to not have him sweating on this irregular stroll of his, but he can feel the temperature slowly rising through the air. The wind serves as his only semblance of comfort as it continues its mission of cooling the exposed skin of his forearm and neck. 

He must be walking for at least five minutes before he sees it. The scraggly grey hair of a dog's bottom, her top half hidden behind a large oak tree but her tail wagging ferociously. A small smile graces Erwin’s face subconsciously, the slowly building apprehension dissipating in an instant at seeing the vivacious mutt. 

Or at least at seeing her bottom half. 

He approaches the tree slowly, the noises of enjoyment and panting from the dog becoming louder as he draws nearer. But there’s another sound too that fills the air. A sound much sweeter and delicate, one that he’s heard a thousand times over the years,  and yet, Erwin swears it's one he can never get tired of. 

It’s a breath of fresh air, an instant drug in his veins, and the reason behind the swelling of his heart. His smile grows wider than he could have possibly imagined.

He gets close enough and the dog finally notices him, bounding over to him in an instant with a greeting bark and a perk in her step. He pats her head, a silent gratefulness at having found her finally and understanding why she refused to meet his calls. Why she continued to stay at the spot behind the oak tree a five minute walk away from her home.

He finally gets near the tree, peering around its large trunk to the spot the dog previously occupied and can’t help but laugh in surprise. 

Sitting in the space between the bulging roots are his two girls, one aged six and the other three, huddled close together as they coo and giggle over an object resting between the two’s feet. Their backs are turned towards their father, too preoccupied with whatever was settled between them to even notice the beloved dog’s disappearance from her original spot and its replacement with their father. 

His years of training to fight titans kicks in, his steps as quiet as can be as he gets closer to the girls to get a look at what they were currently fawning over. 

A baby bird. Brown in color and more than comfortable between the two children.

“What are you two doing?”

His voice sends a jolt of shock through them, the two girls jumping in the air at the sudden disruption and whipping their faces around to look at the intruder. The fear quickly melts off of their round faces when they realize who it is. 

“Daddy!” The two girls yell unanimously, unbridled joy filtering their features and Erwin briefly sees the beautiful face of their mother in them. The youngest in particular. 

The eldest managed to take most of his features, much to his wife’s pleasure, retaining his aquiline nose, the vibrant blue of his eyes, and his own oval face shape, but her hair is a delightful mix between his and his wife’s. And while she looks the most like him, she acts the most like her mother; Joyous and giggly and a passionate ball of rays. 

Now, his youngest, while looking almost entirely like a carbon copy of her mother, was in fact a replica of his own personality. Quiet, curious, diplomatic. A balance to her impulsive sister, a shining grey crater of peace in the sky.

His sun and moon. His reasons for orbit. The loves of his life. 

                                                             ∵

And as he walks his two girls back across the field to their home, their mother’s figure on the horizon and an excited chatter between them as they recount the tales of their morning in helping the baby bird, a single thought enters Erwin’s mind. 

Retirement isn’t so bad. 

[plentyghosts]

Read on Ao3

Title: a moment to breathe

Summary: He goes downstairs, knowing he would be greeted by tea and his friends. He can sit. His friends and family are safe. It’s over, and he can breathe.

Content warnings: minor injuries

Authors note: bear with me and ignore any typos and clunky transitions, i wrote this mostly on a with with little planning, the idea wouldn't leave my head

Nicholas had always been squeamish, a paper cut was enough to make him feel nauseous. So, needless to say, he was having trouble remaining calm as he pressed a hand against his nephew’s side, waiting for EMTs to arrive. All things considered- the size of the beam, how it had all but crushed the Salamander. That crush of metal that would haunt his ears forever- it could have been so much worse. The boy was still breathing, chest rising and falling in shallow, pained breaths. That was enough for Nicholas at the moment. He could hear his brother yelling, demanding those “damned officers” let him see SQ. But Nicholas would be damned if he let Nathaniel anywhere near the boy.

When the EMTs do finally arrive, they whisk SQ (and Milligan, sporting injuries of his own) away before Nicholas could quite piece the sequence of events together. He watches as the ambulance turns a corner, headed straight for Stonetown hospital’s ER. He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Rhonda. Her face is tired if relieved. Number Two stands not far behind her, and he can see both Sticky and Reynie reuniting with their worried guardians.

“Come on,” Rhonda says “Kate and Milligan will be waiting for us at the hospital, and I’m sure you’d like to check on your nephew.”

The hospital makes his head hurt. That, and waiting so long to see his nephew, creates an altogether aggravating experience. Kate seems to share in this feeling. She’s antsy, pacing back and forth and back and forth and-

“Wetherall?” Kate’s head whips toward the sound of the doctor’s voice.

“Yes- yeah, yeah that’s me.”

“You can come and see your father now.” Kate immediately starts peppering the doctor with questions as she follows her, along with Rhonda and Number Two. Number Two tries to insist she stay with Nicholas, but he insists right back that she go and see their friend, and he’ll meet them there as soon as he checks on SQ. When finally she agrees to go, Nicholas is left with his worst nightmare. His own thoughts. To distract himself, he catalogs every little detail of the hospital's waiting room.

The walls are a pale blue, nearly white. There are cork boards hung in the waiting room, as stuck with posters and pamphlets filled with medical advice and encouragements for those with ailments to care for themselves and take their medication. The chair he sits in is squeaky and uncomfortable, and it sends a soreness up his back. He taps his foot, listening to the repetitive ‘tap tap tap tap’ of his heel against the shining, sanitized linoleum floor. He gets tired of waiting very quickly. He checks the time frequently. Outside the sun has gone down, but in the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, the place feels timeless. The clock says it’s nearly midnight, but it feels as though it could be anywhere between twelve and two AM. He leans his head against his head, eyes beginning to slip closed.

“Nicholas Benedict?” A doctor calls. He snaps from his exhausted stupor, head rising from where it rests on his hand to look at the doctor. She smiles at him. He stands, quickly smoothing out his suit as he walks to meet her.

“That would be me.”

“Good, good,” she looks down at the clipboard held snugly in her arms, “your… sorry, I’m a little confused on the relation here.”

“He’s my nephew. Adopted. The situation is…” how to say this in a way that makes sense, “complicated. It’s complicated,” he settles on. She nods, deciding not to question further.

“Well, your nephew will be okay. He needed some stitches on his side, but the cut should heal so long as he rests and is sure not to stretch that area too much, which means no strenuous physical activity.”

“I’m sure that won’t be an issue, he’s a rather calm kid.”

“Good, good. Now,” she sighs, “he is rather malnourished. He’s on an IV for hydration right now, and hopefully, we’ll be able to get some food in him once he wakes. Now, seeing as he is my patient, it is in my best interest to ask if perhaps he has a complicated relationship with food?” Nicholas tries to think. He hadn’t known his nephew long enough to be aware of any issues such as that.

“I’m not sure but…” he thinks back to the cave. Nathaniel had gotten so involved with his work that he had often neglected to feed his son, and the people he was holding captive. Nicholas couldn't count on one hand the number of times he had found himself sharing the meager scraps of food he was provided with his nephew.

“I’m willing to bet that has something to do with his father. He often forgot to feed him.”

“I’m assuming he no longer lives with his father?” The doctor asks, raising an eyebrow. Nicholas shakes his head.

“As of tonight? No, he’ll be staying with me.” The doctor seems satisfied with this answer. He’s not sure she could do much if he wasn’t, but compared to Nathaniel, anyone would seem like a saint.

She leads him down the hallway and up an elevator. At some point, he takes his jacket off and tucks it neatly under his arm. The hospital feels much too warm. Though perhaps it’s simply his body going into overdrive, trying to understand what was going on around him.

The hospital room is plain. There is a bed and a bedside table beside it with a small vase housing a wilting bunch of flowers. The lights are dimmed, the only light comes from the window, through which moonlight is pouring in. The moon is bright and visible, beaming in the midst of the blackout. The hospital, thankfully, has a backup generator that is being put to use. The walls are plain, pale blue, matching the rest of the hospital. Nicholas lingers in the doorway after the doctor has left him to attend to other patients. His coat is tucked, folded, under his arm.

His nephew lays in the bed. On the side opposite from the wilting flowers, an IV bag drips steadily. He shakes his head, as though it might help to clear his thoughts, and enters. He sits in the chair beside the bed. It’s much more comfortable than the one from the waiting room. It’s plush, meant to be sat in for extended periods of time. He watches the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and notes the mop of hair falling in his face and obscuring his closed eyes. He sighs. Nicholas presses his palms into his closed eyes. He listens to the steady breathing of his nephew. He peeks one eye open to look at the boy's peaceful face, marred with a sharp bruise on a cheek still round and undefined with youth. He looks at his nephew, and briefly (but not too briefly,) he hates himself. He removes his hands from his face and his eyes trail down to where SQ’s hand lays, palm up, against the sheets. Nicholas slowly places his own hand over SQ’s and squeezes it gently. SQ’s fingers curl, ever so slightly, around his uncle’s hand. Nicholas can see a bandage taped over the back of his hand, where an IV has been placed.

Suddenly, startling Nicholas, SQ’s nose scrunches. He makes a soft, almost wheezing sound as he cracks open his eyes. Nicholas’s shoulders tense. He squeezes his nephew’s hand again, where it still lays in his.

“Hello, my dear,” he says. SQ’s eyes remain in a half-open limbo as he takes in the sight of the rather austere room. His brow furrows.

“Where am I?”

“In a hospital. You’re safe, I promise.” SQ turns his gaze back to him, and what Nicholas finds there makes his chest hurt. Purely because it is too old, too mature, and too heartbroken for a boy his age. He’s seen that look in most of the children, and he hates to have played any part in putting it there.

“Where’s my dad?” It’s barely a whisper of a question. He heaves a soft sigh. How to explain.

“Your father has been arrested.” He says, voice soft as though it might make this easier to say. SQ blinks at him. He turns his head to stare at the foot of the bed for a moment, face blank. Then, he looks back to Nicholas.

“It’s over?” He asks, his wisp of a voice breaking halfway through. For a too-long moment, Nicholas is at a loss for words.

“Yes,” he says finally, nodding, “yes, it’s over.” SQ quickly turns his head and swipes at his eyes, wiping away the tears forming in his eyes. Some foolish idea of weakness his father had planted in his head keeping his emotions locked down. He clears his throat and looks back. SQ looks at him for a moment, eyes observant if still bleary with sleep. Nicholas is glad when his eyes fall to their still intertwined hands, and doesn’t pull away. Small steps. His weary eyes travel back up to Nicholas’s face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Nicholas blinks. It didn’t particularly occur to him he might need checking up on. It still didn’t. He had no grievous injuries. In fact, physically, he was fine.

“I’m fine, my dear. I’m more worried about you right now.” Now it is SQ’s turn to blink.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you, SQ. I love you, and I want to make sure you’re safe and healthy.” SQ stares at him for a very long, silent moment. His eyes fall to the IV that runs from his hand. Then, to the window on the far side of the room, and the moonlight pouring in. He starts to cry. This was quite the opposite effect Nicholas had been going for. He moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed, opening his arms. SQ hesitates for only a moment before leaning into the hug. “It’ll be alright, my dear.”

“Where am I gonna go?” Nicholas rubs gentle circles in his back, lips pressing together as he tries to find proper words. Truth be told, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. He hoped SQ would come to live with him. After everything, the last thing SQ needed was to be thrown in an orphanage, separated from anything even remotely familiar. He wouldn’t let that happen. That much he was sure of.

“Well, if you would be alright with it, you’ll likely be staying with me,” SQ says nothing, but Nicholas feels him nod against his chest. “Okay, good. How about, for now, you get some rest. Okay?” SQ nods again. He does not pull away, so Nicholas continues to hold him. The position wasn’t particularly comfortable, but clearly, SQ does not mind, because, after a few minutes, he falls asleep. Nicholas lays him back against the pillows. He moves back to his chair and sits heavily. He watches the slow rise and fall of his nephew’s chest. He listens to the bustle of the hospital outside the plain, wooden door. Nicholas has always found it funny, how scary, terrible things could happen, but not be entirely understood until there was a lull in action. A moment to breathe. That moment is when it hits Nicholas. His brother has been arrested. As SQ said, it’s over. The tears come not long after this thought, and in even less time, he is asleep.

“Sir?” He wakes to Number Two’s voice. She sounds concerned, which is fair enough. Laying slumped over a hospital bed was certainly not good for one's back. Though he hadn’t had much say in the matter. He knows he should answer her, but he’s so tired. He hears her step further into the room. The door clicks closed behind her. “Nicholas?” Finally, he manages to muster enough energy to sit up, eyes still sleepy.

“Ah, hello Number Two. I must have fallen asleep.” From the look on her face, he knows that she knows he didn’t fall asleep just by virtue of the particularly exhausting day they’d had.

“Are you alright? You seem…” Number Two rakes her eyes over him. She takes in his tangled hair, the dark spaces beneath his eyes where his exhaustion lays heavy and evident, un-hideable. The way his hands shake against the sift, white sheets of the hospital bed. The way it isn’t just his hands that shake. She searches for the right words to describe his state. “Tired,” she settles on.

Tired is an understatement. Nicholas Benedict is positively exhausted, ready to collapse at any moment. He wants nothing more than to crawl into his nice, warm bed and lay there for the rest of the week. But he doesn’t. He has his nephew, and the other children, to worry about. He still reels at the word nephew. It was not a new revelation, at least by finding out you have a nephew's standards. He’d found out on the island, and had inevitably passed out, and had to explain that “Yes, I’m fine, dear. I have-” before the boy worried himself sick. That had been about a year ago. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since. He still kicks himself over it. He should have found some way to bring SQ with them. Unfortunately, Nathaniel had made his getaway before that could happen.

“I am quite tired. But, I’m afraid I have more important things to worry about than myself,” he stands, and speaks again before Number Two could argue that he needs to rest, “how’s Milligan?” Number Two sighs. He knows she can tell he’s avoiding going to rest.

“He’ll be okay,” she says, “he broke almost all of his bones, but the doctor said he’ll be okay with time. He’ll probably need some physiotherapy, though.” Nicholas grimaces. He’d be lying if he said he understood why Milligan had decided throwing himself off a building was the best course of action.

“Good, I’m assuming he’s resting?”

“Yes, and you should, too.” She raises an eyebrow, giving him a poignant look. He sighs.

“SQ-”

“I’ll stay with him. You go home and rest.”

“I will rest.” He says, and Number Two visibly relaxes. “But,” he continues, “I can’t go home. I need to stay with SQ.” She looks as though she wants to argue. She opens her mouth to do so, then, she takes a look at SQ, still sleeping in the hospital bed. She closes her mouth.

Nicholas sleeps in the hospital room that night. The chair is uncomfortable, and he knows he will wake with an ache in his back the next morning. But he can’t fathom the idea of leaving his nephew here alone. He doubts the boy has ever set foot inside a hospital, let alone stayed in one overnight. He’s thankful when the restless night ends, morning light cracking through the sheer curtains.

SQ is discharged that morning. Nicholas helps him gather what very little he has (a spare sweater, a small sketchbook, and an assorted jumble of pencils.) He places the sketchbook in a bag Rhonda had fetched from the house for them, then leads SQ out to the entrance of the hospital.

He has a quick check-in with the doctor. She makes a point of telling Nicholas to make sure SQ is fed three proper meals a day, and snacks if possible. He glances towards where SQ and Number Two are waiting by the door. Number Two is insisting that SQ have some of the carrots she’d brought. He turns back to the doctor.

“I think we’ve got it covered,” he says.

The drive home isn’t particularly long, but Nicholas can see SQ nodding off in the back seat. He watches out the window as Number Two drives the car up the driveway and parks it. Home sweet home. They hadn’t been gone all that long, but he’d longed to be at home in bed through the entire venture, as one is inclined to do when dealing with their exhausting, manipulative brother. He wakes SQ, who looks rather impressed by the house. He can’t take his eyes off of his nephew as they make their way inside. SQ, as he learns, is incredibly inquisitive when not under immense stress. As they walk inside the house, SQ cranes his neck about to look at the maze. He runs his hands along the wall, pausing mid-step as he runs his hands along the raised bumps that make up the arrows.

“Braille… that’s clever. Uh, why do you have a maze in your house anyway?”

“They were part of the tests,” Nicholas says as he continues to lead SQ through the maze.

“Tests?”

“For the children,” Number Two chimes in, “when we formed the team that we sent to the island. We had a series of tests the children did to help us decide who we would have on the team.”

“Oh, I see.” SQ’s eyes become somewhat fuzzy, and he went quiet for the rest of the walk through the maze. Nicholas feels a small pang of guilt. He can only imagine the displacement SQ might feel amongst the kids, especially given what Reynie had told him about his deception towards SQ on harbor island. Regardless of if the boys had declared themselves to be made up, that sort of thing had an impact. Nicholas would know, he’d spent a good portion of his life dealing with the sort of damage a fallout such as that leaves in its wake. Granted, most people don't turn to villainy when their feelings have been hurt. But Nicholas and Nathaniel had never been quite like the other children in the orphanage.

They walk up the stairs. The bell sits at the top as it always has. Almost on instinct, SQ reaches out and gives it a single ring. Everyone tenses, and turns to seek the source of the noise. SQ’s face reddens.

“...sorry.” Nicholas smiles softly and puts his hand gently on SQ’s back, leading him away from the bell.

“It’s okay my dear. We only ring that bell in case of an emergency, for future reference.” SQ nods but says nothing more. “How about,” he continues, “I show you to your room, hm?”

He leads SQ to his room, and the boy stays quiet the whole way there. Nicholas can’t say he blames him. It had been a tiring few days. Or, years were more accurate. He leads SQ down a hall on the third floor and pushes the door opening. The room is made up for one person. The walls are a gentle, sky blue. A bed is shoved into the corner, and on the wall opposite to it is a desk and a dresser. SQ steps in ahead of Nicholas, turning in a slow circle to look at the room.

"I hope it's alright," he says, neglecting to mention the fact that Nicholas had been putting this room together since he'd left the island, the last time they had seen each other. He had agonized over every detail. The color of the walls, the bedsheets, the pillows. Perhaps he had been a tad overdramatic. But it kept him busy. And it was something at least somewhat nice to focus on, the idea that the room might soon be occupied.

"I'm afraid I don't know what your room was like when you lived with your father. And I know little about your interests- which I, of course, hope to mend, and, well, essentially what I'm saying is I had to play it by ear a bit, so I apologize if-"

"It's perfect." SQ cuts him off, and there's a choked quality to his voice.

Nicholas looks back to him, his eyes having wandered about the room in his short ramble. SQ is pressing one hand against the pillow, testing its softness. "Anything you do is perfect," he continues, from the doorway Nicholas can see his eyes brimming, the soft downturn of his brow. He steps in and closes the door gently behind him. "I mean, it's more than my dad ever did."

"Are you alright, my dear?" SQ presses his palms into his eyes. He turns to look out the window. Nicholas can tell he's trying not to cry. He can also tell it's not working. He doesn't comment on it. SQ sighs, world-weary and tired.

"No," he says, "I don't think I am." Nicholas frowns and steps into the room, the door clicks closed behind him.

“Can you put a name to why? Or do you think you may simply be tired?”

"I just- I could have helped. I could have done something. I can't stop thinking that I could have done something different." He sits on the edge of the bed, next to his nephew, and sighs.

"When a ship sinks- a big ship, think of the Titanic, for example- it creates a whirlpool that drags everything around it in. It doesn't matter how buoyant an object, or how strong a swimmer. It will pull everything under. Some people are like that. When you see them go down, sometimes the best thing to do is walk away, or they will pull you in, and drown you. And as much as I still care for my brother, he is, unfortunately, a sinking ship." SQ swipes at his eyes and pulls his knees up to hug them. He sets his head down on his knees and stares silently at the ground for a long moment.

“So… I did the right thing?”

“Yes, my dear. Jumping ship was not just the right thing for you to do. It was the only thing.” SQ pressed his lips together. Nicholas pats his shoulder gently. “How about you get some rest? It’s been a very long day. There are pajamas in the ” SQ nods and Nicholas stands to leave him in his room. He pauses, briefly, at the door and looks back at his nephew. SQ pulls off his shoes, then stands and walks to the dresser. Nicholas closes the door and heaves a soft sigh.

He goes downstairs, knowing he would be greeted by tea and his friends. He can sit. His friends and family are safe. It’s over, and he can breathe.

[gothamsglam]

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite. 

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it. 

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see, 

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned. 

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about. 

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag. 

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right. 

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun. 

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less. 

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks. 

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table. 

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t. 

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one. 

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely. 

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen. 

“Nope,” the man replied. 

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring. 

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief. 

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned. 

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him. 

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled. 

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times. 

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything. 

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked. 

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before. 

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’ 

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in. 

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels. 

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed. 

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker. 

“What?” Bucky short-circuited. 

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks,  and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles. 

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad. 

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk. 

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed! 

-vix

[tiffdawg]

Full Sabacc | A Din Djarin x Reader Fic

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (no y/n)

Word Count: 4.0k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW -  explicit smut, dirty talk, mild cursing. 18+ only.

A/N: A game of sabacc turns into soft, steamy, sexy fun with Din Djarin. This is basically one long self-indulgent strip tease. Forgive me, but it’s my birthday and I wanted to treat y’all to something fun 🖤Enjoy!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

... . ...

Full Sabacc

Din’s gaze was momentarily transfixed on the blur of starlight curving around the transparisteel window as the Razor Crest tore through hyperspace. It’d been a long day and he was tired, but he couldn’t rest. Not yet. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins from the day’s action, making him restless. He’d finally tracked down the last bounty of the three pucks Karga had given him a few weeks prior. He had to put fuel in the Crest somehow, and this was the best way he knew how, despite other matters that needed his attention. Thankfully, the Trandoshan was in carbonite, though not for lack of a fight, and the autopilot was set for Nevarro.

He’d been cycling through starmaps, looking for the smallest hint of a lead as to where he might continue searching for his foundling’s people, but had allowed the blue streaks of hyperspace to distract him from his seemingly futile task. Instead he was thinking of the little foundling, sleeping soundly in his carrier down in the hull, and, in spite of his best efforts, you.

He’d brought you on as crew to help with bounties and keep the ship flying almost a year ago. He needed to focus more on finding the mysterious Jedi and after watching you fight off a couple of thugs who’d mistakenly thought you’d be an easy target, he figured you’d do, at least temporarily. You were strong and capable, and he’d needed the help, but you’d surprised him when you fell in love with the kid and took on Din’s burdens as your own, steadfastly determined to help him in any way you could. A temporary agreement quickly became permanent, and the past few months of crisscrossing the Outer Rim with you and the baby had brought Din a strange but not unwelcome sense of contentment. Something he’d never had as far as he could remember in his adult life.

You quietly reentered the cockpit, having previously left to check on the sleeping toddler and search for food, and reclaimed your seat next to him.

“How much longer?” you asked with a sigh.

“About fifteen minutes less than the last time you asked,” he retorted.

The three of you had spent the majority of the past week within the confines of the Crest, with only brief respites outside the ship when you made planetfall to track a bounty or hurriedly pick up supplies. His most recent jobs had taken you to planets that were less than hospitable, not that you seemed to mind that fact. You were feisty, a bit rough around the edges, and could handle yourself in dangerous situations. Still, he was sympathetic to your frustration. Even the kid was growing restless.

For a moment, he let his mind wander again as he contemplated the starlight before him. He let himself entertain the idea of taking you and his foundling somewhere nice for a few days. He imagined the two of you happy and free somewhere warm with a bright sun shining down on rolling green fields and a sparkling lake far from the chaos that plagued the rest of the galaxy, that seemed intent to follow him everywhere.

With a few swift movements, he double-checked the autopilot and turned to face you, wanting to voice his newfound desire, but the words died on his tongue. He had no idea how to suggest something like that to you. You were just supposed to be his working partner, his friend at best. It didn’t matter if he was starting to consider you so much more than that.

Instead, he said nothing, his head dropping to the stack of cards you shuffled idly in your hands.

“I know how we can pass the time,” you suggested, following his gaze. “It’ll be more fun than staring into hyperspace all night.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You do, but it’s okay. It’s endearing, Mando,” you said with a light laugh. Before he had time to process what your words, you leaned towards him in your seat, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “Do you know how to play sabacc?”

 “I’ve been in enough cantinas to know how to play sabacc,” he answered dryly. “I just choose not to.”

You slump back in your seat. “You don’t like playing?” you asked, looking down at the cards, toying with an already bent corner on one, and sounding rather defeated. He was surprised – usually you’d put up more of a fight.

“Never interested me.”

“I know how we can make it interesting.” Your eyes met his again with a newfound blaze. That was the spark he’d been looking for, but he knew instantly that he was going to regret it.

“You’re not suggesting what I think you are,” he deadpanned, his voice even and modulated. Underneath, he felt differently. You gave him a short, playful nod as if hoping to encourage him, beaming at him from across the cockpit, and he felt his resolve crumble. Even if you didn’t realize it, that smile could get him to do anything.

You took his silence as an opening to convince him, and to your credit, it was a fair argument.

“C’mon, what’ve you got to lose? I’m in a tunic, trousers, and a jacket. You’re wearing full body armor and 5,000 layers, Mandalorian.”

You pronounced his title as if daring him to agree.

Din was never one to resist a challenge. 

… . … 

As it turned out, you were pretty good at sabacc.

Damn good.

That was fast becoming a problem for Din Djarin.

He had yet another shitty hand of cards. At best, he had 18 points. If he played what he currently held in his now ungloved hands, you’d probably beat him. If he drew another card, he’d almost certainly bomb out and you’d still beat him. Again. 

At that point, he was down to his helmet and base layers. He’d lost every other piece of Beskar along with his gloves, boots, belt and holsters, cape and outer coverings. You’d seen him in various stages of undress before – not only do you share rather close living quarters but you’d patched up his more serious injuries on a number of occasions – however, this was easily the least amount of clothing he’d ever worn in front of you, even if he was still essentially covered from head to toe.

Of course, you were still wearing almost everything you’d had on at the start of the game. Only your boots and jacket were missing. Hell, you still had your socks. You grinned wickedly at him from your perch on the co-pilot’s seat and he knew you had another good hand. He’d suspect you of cheating somehow, but he’d been watching you closely, and, to be quite honest, he knew you better than that. 

You showed him your cards and he groaned. 

Pretty soon he’d be in nothing but his gods-forsaken helmet. Not that he hadn’t imagined that exact scenario before – although this definitely was not the time nor place to entertain those kinds of thoughts. Not when he felt so exposed.

Din wasn’t sure how he let this game get away from him. He’d completely lost control of the situation, and he wasn’t getting much in return.

Except that he was, in a way. He supposed he’d let this happen. Din could’ve tapped out of the game at any point and you would’ve obliged him. But it was sort of…exciting. He got to choose what to reveal to you, what part of him to bare next, all under the guise of a game. There was no pressure, no expectations, and he reveled in the way you carefully appraised him every time another layer was removed.

You quirked a brow at him, still waiting for him to indulge you for your latest victory. He shucked off his last protective layer, leaving him in nothing but his trousers and undershirt, and it was easily the least dressed he’d ever been around anyone. Even when he had participated in brief sexual encounters in the past, he’d never removed so much as a piece of Beskar. Yet there he was sitting in front of you wearing next to nothing and he wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. 

No, he liked the look in your eyes as you took in his form, finally seeing the outline of a human body beneath the armor. He probably liked it too much.

Until you met his eyes behind the visor again and he saw a glimmer of uncertainty cloud your lusty gaze that looked entirely foreign on you.

“We should stop,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Why stop now? You’ve been kicking my ass so far.”

You considered his words, chewing on your bottom lip in a way he found much too enticing.

“Deal,” he commanded and for some reason you listened. You hardly ever listened to him without at least some snarky comment. He examined his cards and stifled a sigh. He made his best play, anticipating another loss.

You revealed your cards and – he won.

You bombed out on the next round and lost the one after that, playing a meager 15 points worth of cards. Consequently, you’ve lost both of your socks and your thigh holster and the two of you are suddenly on much more even footing.

You dealt another round without so much as looking at him and he couldn’t help but notice the tension in your movement, in your whole body.

He won that round too, but he was studying you closely now. You were lying to him; that wasn’t your best play.

“Bout time you won a few rounds” you said, having noticed him watching you. He heard the hesitation in your voice where no one else would’ve noticed it.

You shifted in your seat and your hands moved to the hem of your tunic. For a brief moment your eyes flick up to meet his just as you're about to lift the garment up and off your body. Acting on reflex, he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“I want to see the rest of your cards first,” he demanded.

“Okay, you’re definitely the only man in the galaxy to ever say that after winning a round of strip sabacc,” you said rolling your eyes.

He released you from his grip and reached for your unused cards. This time you tried to stop him, but he was stronger than you and broke free easily, still always careful not to hurt you. A quick glance at your cards told him you had a better hand.

A much better hand.

Full sabacc.

You weren’t so stupid that you couldn’t count to 23. You’d lost on purpose.

“Why did you do that?” he asked accusingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you deflected weakly and started to gather up the strewn about cards, no longer meeting his stare.

But he wasn’t going to let this go. “You’re the most competitive person I know. Why’d you lose on purpose? I don’t understand,” he prompted, seeking some sort of explanation.

“Because I-” You stumbled over your words uncharacteristically, “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

His head tilted to one side, a silent plea for clarification that he knew you’d understand.

“Look, I honestly didn’t expect you to be that terrible at sabacc. No offense,” you said with an apologetic look. “I didn’t think I’d get you down to next to nothing that fast. Not with how much you wear – which is a little ridiculous by the way. Also, no offense.” He rolled his eyes at you behind the helmet and somehow you sensed that too, offering him a small huff of a laugh and the ghost of a smile. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable” you repeated after a moment, and your care for him made him bold.

“I hate sabacc. I’m fucking horrible at it,” he started, “But I liked losing to you.”

Your eyes locked onto his behind the visor, your lips parting slightly at his words. “Really?” you asked with more than a hint of disbelief.

He hummed noncommittally and then let his helmet tilt downwards a bit more obviously than normal as his gaze trailed over your body. You seemed to come alive under his stare, body arching toward him and the unsteady rise and fall of your chest quickening.

“I liked winning,” you said, grinning at him.

“I know you did. But you still owe me something.”

You rose from your seat and closed the distance between the two of you, standing in between Din’s parted legs with a steading hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you from behind the visor, waiting for you to make your next move.

“You did win the last round,” you said, pretending to consider his suggestion as you took one of his hands in your own and brought it to the hem of your tunic. “Maybe you could help me.”

He didn’t win the last round, not even close. You’d had a full sabacc and yet here you were offering yourself to him as a reward. 

Din stood to his full height, practically chest to chest with you, and tentatively lifted your tunic, slowly revealing the smooth skin of your stomach, the soft curves of your hips, the gentle slopes of your shoulders. Only a thin breast band remained to protect your modesty, though it did little to hide the swell of your breasts or your peaked nipples from him. He dropped your shirt onto the pile of long forgotten clothing items that seemed to be growing by the minute. He let his fingers skirt over your sides as he brought his hands back down to settle on your hips, suddenly overcome with the need to hold you in place. He was just barely touching you, but the feel of your skin burned through him, emanating from his fingertips and settling deep in his belly.

But what was he supposed to do now?

You’d always flirted with him much more boldly than he did with you, and he’d assumed that was just part of your personality. You were naturally confident and more than a little coquettish. When he did dare to flirt back, he always took his cues from you. He also stuck to easy truths: your effortless fighting technique, the practiced way you cleaned a blaster, your sharp wit and cunning mind. And even though you couldn’t see past his dark visor, you always caught him staring at you. Always offered a shy, knowing smile in response while never expecting much of anything from him in return.

But now you were staring up at him eagerly.

This was already the most intimate situation he’d ever been in – sexual or otherwise. Never before in his somewhat limited experience, had it ever felt like this before. The air between you was charged, practically volatile, and it felt like it would implode at any minute.

“Your move, Mando,” you prompted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. Even now you were letting him dictate the terms, still making sure he felt comfortable, and your encouragement was all he needed. “Turn around. Close your eyes.”

As soon as you did what he told you, he disengaged the locking mechanism on his helmet. Quickly slipping off his undershirt, he replaced his helmet before reaching out to you again. You let him turn you around with a light touch ghosting over your shoulder.

“You can look.”

Your eyes fluttered open and darted across his body. Instinctively, your hand stretched out towards his bare torso, retracting hesitantly halfway before he took the initiative. Taking your hand in his, he planted your palm to his chest, his own resting firmly over yours. The tightness in his chest dissipated under your touch, aided by the soft smile gracing your lips. Until you glanced up at him and thought he saw a hint of sadness cross your face. There was one layer that couldn’t come off.

Not yet.

He filed that thought away for later. He could only process so much in one night.

“I can’t-”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. This is more than enough. I promise.” You smiled again and he tried to believe you. He tried not to dwell on it as you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his chest. His heart threatened to beat out of his ribs, and he was sure you could feel it. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes,” he choked out and you kissed him again, lower this time as your focus shifted to the button of his trousers.

“And this?” You asked looking up at him with dark, shining eyes. He nodded and you pushed his pants down his legs, bending to help him step out of them. As you stood to your full height again, your fingertips brushed lightly against his calves and thighs, scorching his skin and sending a shock of arousal to his already throbbing erection. You noticed his hardness, hardly concealed by his briefs, as you moved up his body.

“Aren’t you glad I suggested sabacc?” you asked coyly.

He wished you could see the smile behind his helmet. “Yeah, but I think you’re a little overdressed.”

“Care to help me?” You wrapped your hands around his and brought them to your chest, encouraging him to palm your still covered breasts. He enthusiastically helped you remove the offending article, tossing it carelessly aside, and his hands wandered lower, taking your trousers off as well as your panties in one quick movement.

“Hey!” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck to balance yourself. “That’s cheating.”

“You cheated first,” he answered with a laugh of his own. He held you to him, delighting in the sensation of your skin, the feeling of your body pressed flush against his. Determined to touch every inch of your body, his hands moved on their own accord, dropping to knead the pliant muscle of your backside.

“I knew you were staring at my ass all this time,” you teased, trailing your hands down to the waistband of his briefs.

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.” He supposed there were some things the helmet couldn’t hide. His fingers slid past the swell of your ass cheeks, dipping into the wetness he found at the apex of your thighs.

“Oh,” you moaned breathily, “I’m not complaining.” Your hand slipped into his briefs and freed his cock, pumping it experimentally. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. You’d hardly done anything, and he was already faltering on the edge. Except that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen, touched, and explored more of his body than anyone ever before. It was all so much and yet he wanted so much more. He wanted you, only you, and he wanted to give himself over to you completely. But for now, your lips kissing and sucking on his pulse point on his exposed neck brought him back to the present moment. Back to the fact that if you kept stroking him the way you were, with just enough pressure on the base of his cock and a teasing swirl across the head, this would be over before it really started. “Fuck, I’m not gonna-”

“Me either. Take these off, please” you begged, tugging at his briefs. “Need you now, Mando.”

He discarded the last layer of clothing separating the two of you and you walked him backwards, pushing him down when the backs of his knees hit the captain’s chair so that you could climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. With a gentle hand on your lower back, he pulled you closer, guiding you as you sank down on his cock. Your pussy wrapped around him perfectly, enveloping him with your velvety walls.

“You feel so good. I didn’t know this could feel so good,” he said, the vocoder unable to mask the arousal in his voice. Something in the warm smile you gave him told him that you knew he was mumbling on about more than the exquisite clench of your cunt around him, that he actually meant that being with you, having you in his life, felt so good.

“I know. You make me feel good too. So fucking good.” You sighed as you slowly started to move up and down his length, taking him a bit further every time you lowered yourself, “Just- just tell me what you need. Wanna make you feel so- so good, Mando.”

“More,” he responded without clarifying. It didn’t matter – you already knew what he needed. You quickened your pace and all he could do was sit there and watch; he needed to commit this – the blissed-out look on your face, the bounce of your pert tits, the slick coating your thighs and dripping down his cock – to memory. Just in case.

A particularly heady mewl fell from your lips and he snapped back into the moment, realizing he was getting lost in his own thoughts when all he really wanted to do was make you feel just as good. Wrapping an arm around you tightly, he pulled you against his chest. He wanted your flushed body against his; he didn’t want any space between the two of you. With his other hand, he swiped his thumb against your clit, eliciting a wanton moan from you that went straight to his cock.

“You like that?” he asked through gritted teeth, teasing you.

“Fuck! Gods, yes, Mando,” you panted, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders, “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. I’ve got you. Always gonna take care of you.” He tightened the circles he was drawing around your sensitive bud and held you steady as he thrusted upwards when you stilled above him.

“I’m gonna- Fuck, Mando, I’m gonna-” You gasped for breath, unable to even finish your sentence.

“I know. Can feel it. So fucking tight around me. You feel so good.” 

He started pounding into you, pulling you down hard on his cock, and you shattered around him, practically convulsing in his arms as he fucked you through your orgasm. When you finally slumped against him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and buried your face in his neck, holding on as if your life depended on it. You kissed his sweat-slicked skin, murmuring meaningless obscenities as you came down from your high.

“Mando,” you uttered breathlessly, “Cum for me.”

Your gentle demand pushed him over the edge and into the abyss. With a few more errant thrusts, he found the release he so desperately needed, filling you with his seed. A warm, sated feeling washed over him and he let his eyes fall shut behind the visor as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t dare move, and neither did you. The two of you clung to each other in the afterglow, letting the stolen moment stretch on for as long as possible.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, half truthfully. You both knew what had kept you from seeking each other out for so long. He absentmindedly started rubbing a soothing hand along your back, tracing every vertebra and sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“Well, I definitely should’ve broken out the sabacc cards a long time ago.” He felt you smile against his neck and a breathy laugh escaped him. “But more importantly, when can we do it again?”

“Give me a minute, cyar’ika,” he chastised playfully, feeling the quiet laughter that shook your body more than he heard it. “But that reminds me,” Din started slowly, “Have you ever been to Dantooine?”

... . ...

Thanks for reading!

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 2

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1600

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

               “The firebird is broke, Davy,” you mumbled. Your brain was vibrating, your mind was whizzing about with voices and slight colors.

               There were voices all around you, “The lass is waking up,” someone said.

               “This isn’t just a bad dream,” you opened your eyes, the images of blurred bodies started to come clearer. Bunch of men were huddled around a little room. With the vision of kilts, you concluded they were the Scottish rebels the Captain was looking for, “Can you guys lower your voices, I believe I have a concussion and your ramblings are really not helping.”

               “Who are you,” someone questions.

               “What is a concussion?”

               “Where are we,” you said trying to completely understand your surroundings.

               “We ask the questions here,” another voice said, “What’s your name and where you from?”

               You were too exhausted to fight back and too confused to make clear arguments, your head was just fog, “Y/N O’Mulligain and the colonies,” it was all you could say.

               A nervous chuckle came over the group, “An Irish woman from colonies?” They were having trouble with the notion of an Irish person living in the colonies at this time. You were not sure of the facts, but having clear thoughts was a struggle at this point, “Why are you here?”

               You rubbed your head, trying not to chuckle at the realization of your current reality. You rolled your eyes, laughing while thinking of the woman you last saw before this moment, “Adventure.”

               “No,” someone yelled. You winced with the sound, “Ya should have seen the girl. She battled Captain Randall, she knocked him out. I’m not sure what she is, or who, but I bet my best shirt she isn’t a spy.”

               “It doesn’t matter,” another voice said, “Randall is going to be looking for us. We need to go, we need to get Jamie out of here before-.”

               Another voice spoke up, “Why don’t we leave the witch, Randall might want her more since she beat him? Slow him down.”

               “No,” another voice yelled, wincing. By the sound he was making, he was in some pain, “We are not about leaving another person to the British.”

               “Jamie, how bad is it? Can you ride,” your vision was coming to. I didn’t know the story of Outlander, but you got the guise this guy was the Jamie that supposedly was more dreamy than Mr. Darcy, which you knew was to be completely impossible.

               You still haven’t gotten your vision focused and the room was lit only by fire near the chimney, “Hurts sitting still, couldn’t manage a horse.”

               From what you could gauge, his shoulder was dislocated, “We got to put it back.”

               All the man group around this man, they were just going to pull his shoulder up with force. You started to laugh, “You are all so dumb,” you laughed again, with them all turning to you, “You’re going to be breaking the man’s arm like that.”

               You tried to stand, still using the chair for balancing, “What do you know of it? You a healer?”

               Shaking your head, “No, my brother used to get injured every other day. I had to learn how to take care of his countless injuries.”

You started to walk up to the man known as Jamie. When you saw him with fresh eyes you could feel your cheeks blush. He truly was a man fit to his description, what a Greek god. Everyone just looked at you in confusion and distrust, looking like they had no idea what you were saying, “May I,” I push into the group, asking the red head if it was alright to help him with this injury.

               He nodded, “This is going to hurt,” you hit one of the guys shoulders, pointing at this Jamie character, “You’ll need to hold him down.” The men steadied him, “Jamie is it,” you ask gently. He nodded quickly, “This is going to hurt, I mean really hurt.” He nodded understanding what had to be done, “I’ll go on the count of three.” He took a deep breathe, you moved his arm into the right place, “One,” before you could get to two you snapped it back in place.

               Jamie grunted, but instantly looked relieved, “Thought you said on three,” he looked up at you.

               “Just an old trick, I didn’t want you to be thinking of the pain,” you shrugged, rubbing your arms together as you crossed them, “I’m sorry,” looking down at you feet become instantly shy all over again. You not really good with strangers unless your professional life needed it. You whispered, “You just got to keep off the shoulder, massage, and heat will help. Does anyone have a belt or cloth?”

               The man in charged looked to another man and demanded a belt. You slipped it around his body trying not to get into your own brain about this situation. Not only were you out of your comfort zone, but you were out of anything you’ve ever known. Jamie nodded, watching you closely, “Let’s get the horses, we’ve got to go.”

               “I’ll let you guys go, I’ll just be on my way back,” you started, but your arm was grabbed and spun around.

               “You’re coming with us mistress, until we get some more answers.”

               “You aren’t the boss of me, mister,” you said back to him.

               “More like prisoner,” he answered, smiling, “Jamie, you’ll ride with the spy.”

               “I’m not a spy,” you yell back, “I’m just a woman, taking an innocent stroll through the very lovely forest of Scotland.”

               “A regular lady, in pants. Sure,” one guy laughed at you.

               The man in charged approached you, gripping your arm harshly. It took you ever once of your control not to swing around and smash him right in the jaw, “You stay close by us, try anything and I’ll slit your throat.” You stopped breathing for the second, “Come on, give me your foot,” the grumpy guy barked at me.

You gripped Jamie’s hand and mounted the horse, “Haven’t you ridden a horse,” he whispered after feeling your fidgeting.  You shook your head ‘no’ quickly. Being on this horse with this man felt so intimate and it didn’t help it was raining. You didn’t have much clothing for this weather, and you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. Jamie started to make motions from behind you, “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing,” you harshly whisper back to him.

“You’re shivering,” he stated, “Seeing if my plaid loose can help cover you lass.”

“I’m not cold, I’m from Pennsylvania we have harsher winters than this,” you said more to yourself than him, “This is just spritzing,” you motion to the rain.

“I’m not sure what any of that means, but,” he chuckled, his breath tickling your neck, “You are shaking so hard you’re making my teeth chatter,” he chuckled again, especially when you helped him wrap it around your waist.

Turning around, slightly bumping his shoulder you ask, “We are going to ride till sunrise?”

“Probably the next as well,” he grinned again.

You rolled your eyes, you had to start formulating a plan to get back to those damn rocks, and hoping they worked once again.

                 You woke to the sun beaming down, you were not sure when you fell asleep. The sun was up and shining, it was beautiful and felt so good to be out of the rain, “Sleep well,” Jamie asked something from behind.

               Forgetting he was almost there, you pulled forward. Honestly, his warm felt so nice, which is probably why you fell asleep so easily, “How long have I been sleeping?”

               Someone rode past, saying something in Gaelic and chuckling with the group. You proceeded to flip him off, which you instantly forgot they had no idea the gesture, “Just a few hours. You haven’t missed anything.”

               You nodded, looking around you. Scotland was for sure dense and you could walk for days and only see one person, but it felt weird to let your guard down. Redcoats were all about this area at this time and place, “Shouldn’t you be worrying about the British raids? I would imagine they’d be rustling about this area,” you said to him. He chuckled but didn’t answer. Your eyes were drawn to this rocky mountain in the distance, “That out there, it looks like a-?”

               “Back of a cock’s tail. Aye, Cocknammon Rock.”

               Turning to look back at him. You were trying to remember what your friend had said about the books and the show, “I am serious. Don’t you find it strange we haven’t heard anything from the redcoats?”

               He watched you carefully, not knowing where you were going with this conversation, “What do you mean?”

               Turning back to look at him better, “The locals know the area better than anyone, but still the redcoats catch outlaws and rob villagers,” he still looked confused. “That up there, that high point is most likely where some redcoats watch, for the vantage point of seeing travelers down here.”

               He looked down in thought for a second, before nodding, “That’s a bonnie place for an ambush right enough,” he quickened up to the front, “Dougal.”

               They started to speak in what you imagined to be Gaelic and you could imagine they were talking about how suspicious your account was and whether it could be good information or not. The man named Dougal leaned into whisper to you, “You’ll be telling me how you come to know there’s an ambush up ahead.”

               “I just do,” you answered quickly, “I have military experience and I’m telling you – the odds are high that there is an ambush ahead.”

               Staring deeply at you, “You’ll be explaining more when we get back?”

               “Get back? What do you-,” Dougal yelled something in Gaelic and you were met with the loss of my breath.

               Jamie looked down at you, “Hide and don’t be going far.”

PART 3 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Gilded Cage {2}

Lu Xin Lee x OFC Phoenix Argent AU

Warning: Cursing, Plot

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Phoenix has been different her entire life. Not just because her father is rich and she has a lovely big house. Phoenix has a secret about her–a secret that can either make her very powerful or very dead. Because of this secret, she’s lived her life in a gilded cage. When she breaks free, that action creates a dangerous and destructive chain of events that soon have Phoenix wondering if she was better off in this cage. That is until a man who moves and kills like the devil but looks like an angel steps in, showing her that sometimes we have to claim our freedom, no matter the consequences.

Note: Okay, you guys are super supportive and I LOVE YOU ALL!!! So, we will continue. Again, thank you very much for reading and supporting!!

As always, thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed this please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive/Picture Insets***

~~~~~~~~~~

Once you opened your eyes for a few blissful seconds, you thought you were in some remote part of the world far, far away from the dangers of your life. All was quiet, all was still, and you could even smell the faint scent of coffee and coconuts. It was a strange combination, but it was pleasant smelling.

 Once those blissful seconds ticked away, the idea that you were anywhere, but reality quickly faded as pain radiated along your right side. It was pain that had you bolting upright, which only intensified the ache. Once you caught your breath, you found a bandage around your waist. That alone was alarming. With the sheet pooled in your lap, you noticed you were topless. That alarm rose expeditiously as you lifted up the sheet and saw you only wore your black underwear.

Again, your head spun as if on a swivel as you carefully took in your surroundings. You didn't recognize it at all. It slowly dawned on you that it was because this was not your house. Above you were dark wooden beams, and on the walls was washed out red brick. It couldn’t possibly be a hotel either, you thought. The paintings that decorated the walls looked masculine but high end. They could have been done by unknown indie artists. As your eyes made it to the bed you laid in, you determined this was a man's bed. It had to be. The grey and neutral velvet feeling textiles and the equally bland colors surrounding you gave off an elegant feeling. The bed was a beautiful piece of furniture, though. It was sleek, large, and comfortable. Bergamot, sandalwood, and rich cigar smoke caught your nostrils. It was definitely a man’s bedroom.

 Getting away from that, you looked around for any sign of your clothes. There was none, not even your bra. Gathering your strength, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood after pumping yourself up for the pain you suspected would follow.  Once upright on the cold dark wood floors, you tried to steady yourself and find a stance that didn’t have pain radiating through your midsection. You then slowly slinked around, clutching the velvet sheets to your damn near naked body.

 "Where the hell am I?"

 Each step you took, you felt the discomfort in your side. You weren't sure if it was the wound or how tightly the bandage was bound. When you made it to the door, you touched it, realizing it was glass. The more you inspected it, you further realized it was tinted glass. It was either tech controlled or tinted on the inside, and whoever was outside was staring right in.

 You looked around for a weapon of some sort but only found a heavy stone bust of someone who looked like Medusa. With it tightly in hand, you took a deep breath, held the sheet tightly with your free hand and prepared to barge through the door, ready to bash in the skull of whoever was on the other side. When you did, you expected to come face to face with some perv who was at least in his fifties, heavyset, possibly balding, and watching you through the glass in his underwear. There was no one there. The only things you were met with were the setting sun's colors shining in through the windows and the sounds of some sort of k-rap lowly booming from speakers.

"What the fuck!?"

 A sound to your right drew your attention and out walked the sexiest man you'd seen in a long time. He had to have been almost seven feet tall. The white button-down shirt he wore was designer you could tell from the Gucci colors on his collar. It fit him better than perfect, it was a second skin, and you could tell that skin was just as perfect as how the shirt fit. The stranger’s hair was slightly buzzed on the side, with the majority of it coifed to the middle.

 His head snapped to you before his eyes dropped to the statue in your hands. That was when he cocked an eyebrow as if asking a question.

 "Take it easy," he warned, raising his hands a little higher, showing you the larger than normal chef's knife in his right hand.

 Sensing danger, you slanted your head toward him then charged him.

 "Oh shit!"

 It was all he got out before you leaped over the kitchen counter and threw a kick right into his chest. The stranger groaned but only stepped back a few steps sending the knife clattering to the floor. Wasting no time, you threw more punches and blows his way, hoping to gain the upper hand. Every offensive shot you threw; he was on the defense blocking every single one. It didn’t even look like it took much effort.

 "Calm down,” he advised.

 "Fuck you, you creeper!"

 You hurled an elbow at him that connected right into his gut. Instead of soft fleshy skin, you were met with rock hard abs. Jesus, you thought, he's built perfectly too. The stranger spun you then put you into a headlock. Both your hands grabbed his elbow, trying to pry him off. That action had the sheet that was haphazardly wrapped around you fall to the floor. You were naked again, except now in front of him.

 "Shit,” he murmured in a way that was slightly above a whisper.

 Seeing he was distracted, you stomped his foot. The action had his arms lowering enough for you to spin and push him onto the table behind him. You quickly grabbed the first item you saw—a knife--and held it to his throat.

 "Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want!"

 "You're in my house. I should be asking the questions," he countered in a smug tone.

 "I'm the one with the knife to your throat!"

 In seconds he'd done a tricky twisting flip move that sent you onto the table he was just strung across with your hands pinned above your head and his body pressed to yours.

"Seems like I'm the one with the knife now."

 You saw a cocky smirk on his face, and though you wanted to claw it off, you also appreciated his beauty. The new angle aided in your observation that he was gorgeous. Too damn gorgeous. You struggled underneath him, desperately wanting the upper hand. He refused to relinquish it. The tightness of how he gripped your wrists said it.

 "Calm down. You'll open up the stitches," he cautioned.

 You stilled then. "You did this?"

 "Yeah, you were bleeding out. I had to do something."

 "Including strip me?"

 He slowly licked his lips ending on a soft smile, but his eyes remained on yours.

 "I didn't look, I promise."

 You couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Something inside said he had to have peeked.

 "I'm going to let you go, chill out will ya."

 Slowly he released you and backed away with his hands up where you could see them. When he turned his back, you sat up and hugged your arms across your breasts.

 "Here."

 He held out the discarded sheet to you. You quickly snatched it then wrapped it around your body again.

 Sensing you were decent again, he cautiously turned, "Jesus, where'd you learn to fight like that? You're sloppy but effective," he half complimented. Narrowing your eyes at him, you ignored his question and asked one of your own.

 "Who the fuck are you?"

 His smirk, this time, turned to a smile. You were sure that smile had convinced many a woman to come right back here. Before your head to drift to the possibilities of how he moved in that bedroom of his, he spoke.

 "The name's Lu Xin," he said as he leaned against the counter to cross his arms across his chest. The action had his biceps flexing and your eyes dropping to take them in.

 “Who the fuck is Lu Xin?”

 “The man who saved your life.”

 It all flooded back to you. You were running from the hotel, being slammed to the ground, the dead bodies, the assassins, and him stepping in and fighting them off. When his face came back into focus, the look he was giving you had you licking your lips.

 “How are you feeling?” Lu Xin made a move toward you.

 “I didn’t need your help,” you smugly said, walking past him before he could get too close. You then stepped into the living room area.

 “Sure, you didn’t. My mistake. It must have looked like you were about to be shot. You had it. My fault.”

 You could hear the sarcasm dripping off of every word.

 “Shut up.”

 Lu Xin scoffed then shook his head, “That’s a great thank you for patching you up.”

 You touched your side at the mention of your injury and winched.

 “What happened?”

 “I got to you, but not quick enough. The bullet grazed you. It’s not too deep, but I had to stitch you up—six stitches,” Lu Xin informed.

 When you didn’t speak, he continued as he walked closer. “That’s why you’re—naked. I had to get to it, and there was no way you were sleeping in my bed filthy.”

 “Where’re my clothes?”

 “Ruined.” It was a matter of fact statement that said he didn’t think much of tossing them.

 “So, what do I wear?”

 Lu Xin quickly gave your body a once over as he licked and bit his bottom lip. It must have been a two-second action, but you noticed. Lu Xin then walked across the living room to a closet and pulled out a cardboard box. He rifled through it then held up two items: a tank top and a black pants. You walked closer but not too close and examined the items. They were women’s clothing.

 “You just have a box of women’s clothes?”

 “What can I say? I like to be prepared.”

 Rolling your eyes, not believing that one bit, you snatched the garments and walked back into his bedroom to get dressed. As soon as the door closed, you opened it again and popped your head out to speak.

 “Don’t worry, the controls for the windows are in the bedroom. I can’t see anything,” Lu Xin explained. Narrowing your eyes again, you retreated inside once again. A few minutes later, you remerged dressed in the tank top and yoga pants that so happened to fit. You had so many questions, but you knew questions were tit for tat.  Plus, his home and demeanor told you more than you needed to know. Without a word, you made a move toward the door.

 “So, that’s it?”

Lu Xin stood in the hall, smoothly leaning on the wall. He looked as if he expected something.

 “Yeah. Thanks.” You continued your walk, determined to leave but only made it a step or two before he spoke again.

 “Thanks? Wow, it seems that your life must not be worth very much for that kind of thank you.”

 You rolled your eyes and sighed out. Part of you wondered what kind of thank you he wanted. “Look, thanks, but it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need your help.”

 “How were you going get out of it?”

 “Somehow. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself,” you replied as you passed him, leaving a few more steps to the door.

 “I don’t doubt that. You come off as resourceful—beautiful and resourceful.”

 Your belly fluttered. Oh, he’s smooth, you thought. Scoffing, you shook your head.

 “See you, Lu Xin.”

 “Don’t I get to know your name? I mean, seeing as I just saved your life.”

 With your hand on the door, you stopped again and thought about his words, then shook your head. You knew you should just leave. You knew it wasn’t a good idea telling him anything about you, even your name.

 Sighing, you spoke, “No need. We won’t meet again.”

 With that, you opened the door and left. You had to get the hell out of this city now that not only Rafe’s men were here but now so were the Hallowed Helix.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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